


Payback for Hire

by e_e_baker (hepcat101)



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blackrock Depths, Blackrock Spire, Burning Steppes, Drama, F/M, Humor, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Redridge Mountains, Violence, post-Cataclysm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-12-27 18:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 72,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hepcat101/pseuds/e_e_baker
Summary: Intrepid explorer (in his younger years) and self-made entrepreneur Gimbo Tinkertorque has just landed a job that could finally allow him to pay off his debt to the eccentric and vicious. Nexus Prince Kalil. With his crack crew of wayward mercenaries at his side and a juicy contract to slay a black dragon princeling firmly in hand, what could go wrong? For the Problem Solvers, it's rarely a question of if, but when. In a freak turn of events, one of their own is imprisoned in Blackrock Spire and a simple job becomes a race against time to deliver a friend and comrade from under the gavel of Blackrock Clan justice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A note on lore: Although the majority of my stories do and will take place during the aftermath of the Cataclysm, my custom timeline of events is in a pre-Cata, post-Cata transitional state. Primarily, this means that some of the new storylines in the post-Cata zones may or may not have taken place yet. For example, Nefarian still rules Blackrock Spire, the Defias Brotherhood remains powerful in Westfall, and the new Horde-Alliance hostilities have not yet erupted into open war.

**Payback for Hire**

 

Lakeshire, Redridge Mountains:

    “Bailiff Conacher, I said start moving these people out of here!” Magistrate Wilfred Solomon said, his ruddy complexion reddening even further.

    Conacher, a dark-haired man with a thin mustache and dressed in the blue and white plate-mail armor of the Stormwind army nodded and waved to two other soldiers. They joined him in forming a line in front of the jostling, angry crowd filling the space in front of the podium where Solomon stood.

    The soldiers tried to move forward against the throng of bodies, Conacher speaking in a soothing tone. “Citizens, please move back,” he prodded. “Proceed towards the doors in a calm and orderly manner. The town hall is now closed.”

    “What about my son?” a woman wailed desperately from the crowd. “He’s been missing for three days. Please, he’s the only family I have left. You have to find him!”

    “Gnolls attacked my farm a third time this month,” yelled a burly farmer with a thick, black goatee sprouting from his chin. “My stables were pilfered and the horses carried off! What are you and our lauded town garrison doing about the gnolls, Solomon?”

    A voice came from the back of the crowd, “What of the dragon attacks against the outlying villages? Is Lakeshire going to be next? What are you doing to protect us?”

    Solomon raised his voice above the din of the crowd. “Citizens of Redridge, the town hall is now closed! I can hear no more petitions, inquiries, or grievances today. Please, people. Move along now. The town hall is closed.”

    A wiry young man with tousled blonde hair pushed his way to the front of the crowd and marched towards the podium. Conacher immediately thrust himself in front of the man to block his path. The young man shoved against Conacher, yelling at Solomon over his shoulder, “How can you just stand up there and send us all away? You’re abandoning the people of Redridge!”

    Solomon adjusted his monocle in his eye and wiped the sweat off his balding head with a ragged handkerchief. He tried to keep his voice even. “Sir, I am not abandoning anyone. We are simply...tabling these issues for tomorrow's agenda, alright?”   

    “Enough tabling!” the young man snarled. “You ‘table’ these issues every day! And what progress have you made? None! It’s so typical that the aristocracy cares so little for the plight of the common people.”

    Solomon cursed inwardly. Where were the troops from Stormwind, Westfall, or Duskwood he’d asked for months ago? With the army returned from the long fight in Northrend and hostilities with the Horde in a lull, could they spare not a single battalion? Where were Watch Captain Parker and the professional help he was supposed to be bringing back with him?

    He eyed the young man with growing irritation “I assure you, sir, I care deeply about every man, woman, and child--” An object came flying from the crowd and hit Solomon in the face. His eyes snapped shut as he felt the thing splatter against his cheek, wet and foul-smelling. Reaching up, he wiped the rotten fruit from his face, blinking as he pulled his hand away and slopped the stuff onto the wooden floor at his feet. He clenched his fists and his smooth forehead reddened like a shiny apple. “Conacher! Get these people out of here!” he bellowed.  

    With a combination of cajoling, threatening, and shoving, Conacher and his men drove the crowd back until they were able to pull the heavy town hall doors closed. They came together with a thud of merciful finality.

    Slumping into a chair, Solomon dragged his handkerchief across his face in an attempt to wipe off the remainder of the splattered fruit. It came away soaked.

    A servant hurried over to him with a fresh one and began to dab his face with it. “Let me guess...tomato?” Solomon asked.

    “Smells like banana, sir,” the servant said.

    “Even worse.” Solomon sighed wearily, thankful for some minor shred of relief at last. It was doomed to be short-lived as always, but he would hold on dearly to every shred he could get. “Braying cretins,” he murmured.

    It had been seven months since the great so-called “Cataclysm” had shaken the very foundations of Azeroth. The majority of the destruction it had wrought lay far away and out of mind for Solomon, but the terrible state of affairs in Redridge had only seemed to worsen since. If that were even possible at this point.

    “Conacher,” Solomon called, “bring me the latest field reports.”

    The bailiff came with a bundle of scrolls and set them before Solomon. Walking to the main floor, he set up a pedestal that had been knocked over by the crowd and replaced the vase that had fallen from it, then stooping down next to a servant, he began to help the man set up overturned benches and pick up debris from the floor.

    “The servants will manage that, Conacher,” Solomon said. “You’ve done enough today. Go home to that lovely wife of yours.”

    Conacher stood and saluted. “Thank you, sir.”   

    As the bailiff walked out, Solomon unrolled the first scroll he laid his hand upon and began skimming the text. He nervously stroked his graying beard. The report listed attacks by gnolls--four raids on farms and attacks on trade caravans in the last week alone. Solomon clenched his teeth behind pursed lips. Gnolls--filthy, slavering, parasite-infested dog-men pillaging and stinking up the countryside. Giant spiders and condors prowling the roads, murlocs poaching fish from the lake--these nuisances he’d always managed to keep under control, but gnolls were a constant thorn in his side. He had lost count of how many passing adventurers he had recruited and sent out to thin their numbers, but somehow they always surged back even more vicious than ever.

    He skimmed over a second scroll, detailing regional crop yields and soil erosion statistics. The third scroll he unrolled filled him with dread. It detailed the latest black dragon attacks. This fiend, the most terrible plague to befall the Redridge Mountains since the fall of Stonewatch Keep, had swooped in from the north almost a month ago, terrorizing the mountain villages, torching farmer's fields, and even wiping out whole settlements. Of course, the flood of refugees streamed straight into Lakeshire, straining already dwindling resources. These attacks had the stink of Blackrock Mountain all over them.

    No more bumbling adventurers this time, with their flashy, impractical armor, cocky attitudes, and over-sized egos. Solomon realized that he was going to have to hire proper professionals to deal with this marauding black menace. To that end he had sent one of his most trusted men, Watch Captain Jonathan Parker, afar to find said professionals. Preferably an army of them.

    Solomon looked up from his brooding when a soldier appeared at the door. It was Parker. Finally! It had been nearly four weeks since Solomon had last seen the man.

    The young, blonde-haired soldier ducked inside the room and saluted. "Magistrate."

    Solomon scowled. "Well? Out with it, man! Have you brought my mercenary army with you?"

    Parker smiled hesitantly. "Well, no...not exactly, sir. But I do believe I have found a band more than worthy to hunt down and slay the dragon for us. They come highly recommended via the Explorer's League branch office in Booty Bay." His smile stretched into a grin.

    Solomon took out his monocle. "Then don't just stand there--send them in, man!"

    Captain Parker turned and called out into the foyer. "Mr. Tinkertorque, the magistrate is ready to see you now."

    Parker stepped aside and a finely-dressed Gnome wearing a hooded cloak with a gold-embroidered hem walked in. His blue eyes twinkled behind a pair of spectacles almost too big for his face. He gave a deep bow. "Greetings, Magistrate,” he said. “My name is Gimbo Tinkertorque, explorer and mercenarial entrepreneur. I've been told that you have a dragon problem. Well, Magistrate, I'm here to tell you that your worries are over.” He spread his hands wide and smiled under his thick, black mustache. "Your solution has arrived!"

    Solomon replaced his monocle, eyed Tinkertorque with it, then glared back at Parker. "That's the help you brought me? A single Gnome?"

    "Oh I didn't come alone, Magistrate," Tinkertorque said loudly, deftly directing his voice back towards the door. "Allow me to introduce my associates."

    As if on cue, a hearty-looking Dwarf woman was the first to enter the room. She bore the distinctive tattoos of the Wildhammer Clan. The most prominent of which, was the visage of an eagle covering the left side of her head. Actual feathers decorated the chain mail pauldrons on her shoulders, mimicking the wings of an eagle. The longbow and quiver of arrows she carried left no doubt as to her profession.

    "Hilda Ironfeather, of Thundermar," Tinkertorque said. "Expert huntress and tracker of the Wildhammer Clan."

    Glancing sidelong at Tinkertorque,Ironhammer gave a small roll of her eyes before turning back to Solomon. She gave a brusque bow. "Well met.”

    Solomon's face lit up. This looked promising. She at least had the bearing of one who had seen battle! The massive Orc who entered the room after her sapped the glow from Solomon's face just as quickly as it had come. An Orc? The last thing Redridge needed right now was another blasted Orc!

    Tinkertorque indicated towards the Orc. "Mok, of Razor Hill, warrior and former blademaster of the Bleeding Hollow clan."

    Mok nodded and grunted what Solomon guessed to be a greeting. The brute kept his jet black hair pulled back in a long ponytail. His naked torso was covered in scars and red war paint. He wore a necklace of large round beads, a red sash about his waist, long, loose-fitting pants, and wooden sandals. He carried twin swords on his back. Clearly another veteran fighter.

    Taking a mental step back and trying to think objectively, Solomon conceded that there were indeed many halfway honorable Orcs across Azeroth, such as those helping to defend the Plaguelands in the north, unaligned with the either the Horde or the Black Dragonflight. Considering the desperateness of his situation, he decided he would try to keep an open mind about this one.

    A tall, fair-haired Blood Elf, draped in white robes walked in next and stood at the Orc's side. Solomon sighed inwardly. A Blood Elf now? Why not invite Prince Kael’thas himself to come traipsing into Lakeshire? For that matter, why not the entire Horde?

    "Korridan Lore, of Tranquillin," Tinkertorque said. "A priest of the Holy Light and hierophant of the Argent Dawn."

    The Blood Elf gave a bow and brought up a glistening ivory staff with a brilliant, many-faceted sapphire in the middle of the head. He placed the staff before him and passed his free hand before Solomon "Blessings of the Light upon you, sir," he said, his voice mellow and lilting like a father speaking words of comfort to a beloved child.

    "And finally, I present Lady Rosa Carter of Gilneas, fifth Baroness of Eastmoor," Tinkertorque said. “Soldier and former guerilla fighter in Lord Darius Crowley's rebel army.”

    Solomon looked towards the door. Seeing no one, he looked back at the Gnome. "Well, where is she?"

    Tinkertorque blinked and looked around. "Rosa? For goodness sake. Korridan, where's Rosa?"

    The Blood Elf’s eyes seemed to glow a brighter green as he smiled. "I believe that she went for a little hunt," he said. "She mentioned something about a plump boar rooting about behind the herbalist's shop, in the trees near the west end of the lake."

    Tinkertorque looked confounded. "What? She runs off right before my big presentation? Of all the--oh cogs, what am I going to do with that woman? Mok, go find her please!"

    "Don't need to," Mok grunted.

    A Worgen woman, strode casually into the room. Towering above all except for the Blood Elf, she was clad in a suit of saronite plate armor on top of a pelt of shaggy, mostly grayish fur. She hefted a mighty battleaxe across one shoulder. Her tall, curved ears moved forward as she looked around at everyone in the room.

    “Right-o then!” she said, her voice guttural and her Gilnean accent thick and cheerful. “So sorry to skip off on you like that, Gimbo, love. I do hope I'm not terribly late. Have you introduced me yet, love?” She grinned, her lips pulling back from two enormous pairs of interlocking white fangs protruding from her mouth. Hilda covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a giggle. Tinkertorque slapped a hand over his face, muttering curses.

    Solomon drew back at the sight of Rosa, his monocle popping out and falling from his eye. "A Worgen! Parker, you brought a Worgen into my town? Are you crazy? The townsfolk are on edge as it is!"

    Parker looked back and forth between the two. "Sir, I--well, she--she didn't look like a Worgen before!"

    "They're shape-shifters, Parker! How could you be so careless?”

    Smiling, Ironhammer nudged the Worgen in the side. "Rosa, old girl, ye still got a bit 'o blood on yer gob there."

    Rosa put her fingers to her muzzle and pulled them away, looking at the red that came off on the tips of her massive, dagger-length claws. "Oh, terribly sorry,” she said. “Where are a lady’s manners? Hold a mo." She licked the blood off each one and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

    Solomon watched, cringing at the gory display. _Light preserve us_.

    "There now,” the Worgen said. “Yes, I'm afraid I let myself go a bit out there with the catch and kill. Always messy business that, when the Hairy One calls. But don't you fret, I saved some boar shanks for the rest of you. We'll all eat well tonight at least. Cheers, eh?"

    “Great! Ye saved us all from deathly hunger just in time to skip Gimbo's deathly tedium,” Hilda said.

    The two women looked at each other, grinning. Tinkertorque glared at them both.

    Solomon scowled at him, wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and replaced his monocle. "Mr. Tinkertorque, noble King Graymane’s Worgen may have been accepted into the Alliance back in Stormwind City, but out here in the backcountry, old prejudices still hold sway. To the average Redridge citizen, Worgen are cursed, savage beasts and harbingers of evil. We've all heard the stories from Duskwood, Silverpine Forest and beyond."

    "I think, Magistrate,” Tinkertorque said, trying his best to keep smiling, “that the noble people of Redridge will experience a significant change of heart once the five of us bring back the severed head of your dragon. I assure you Rosa is in full control of her condition and poses absolutely no danger to your people, pets, or livestock.” He turned to the Worgen and hissed at her through clenched teeth, "Rosa, if you please!"

    Rosa gave a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes. "Oh all right." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and concentrated. Her form began to shift. Her muzzle sank into her face, her ears shrank, rounded and migrated downward, her fur receded, her claws and fangs shrank and vanished and in a few seconds, she had reverted completely to human form. Her savage, lupine visage had become that of a copper-skinned young woman with long black hair, blue eyes, and soft ruby-red lips turned up in a coquettish smile.

    She cocked her head to one side and looked at Solomon "Better, love?" she asked sweetly.

    Solomon blinked and nodded. "Yes...immeasurably." Parker was staring at her too.

    Tinkertorque smiled. "Ah, the legendary beauty of the Lady Rosa Carter shows itself once again. Don't be fooled by her delicate looks. The damsel is just as dangerous as the beast.

    “Trust me when I tell you, Magistrate, we are the perfect team to take care of your dragon problem. The five of us have been solving problems together all the way from the forests of Ashenvale to the rolling prairies of Westfall, across the frozen wilds of Northrend to the bubbling lava pits of Hellfire Peninsula. We're problem solvers. It's what we do."

    Solomon looked at Parker. "Who did you say recommended these people?"

    "The Explorer's League, sir,” Parker said. “The League is their most frequent client. I'm told Harrison Jones himself speaks well of them."

    Solomon looked at Tinkertorque again and the Gnome grinned back at him, nodding adamantly. "Such a grand endorsement. Very well, Tinkertorque. I entrust this task to you and your associates. How much are they asking for, Parker?”

    “He quoted an initial sum of two thousand silver pieces,” Parker answered. “The final amount negotiable based upon...customer satisfaction with services rendered, I believe he phrased it.”

    “You heard correctly,” Tinkertorque said, grinning. “You pay based on what you think our services are worth and you owe us nothing until the job is done. After a minimum sum of three hundred to cover our equipment and travel expenses, of course.”

    Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well then. I would appreciate it if you would get going right away. I need that dragon dead yesterday. The brute was last seen circling the skies in the area surrounding Stonewatch Keep. I'll wager it's a pet of the damned Blackrock orcs that reside there. Bring me this dragon's head and I will gladly pay you the two thousand silver pieces in full."

    "Consider it done, Magistrate," Tinkertorque said, bowing once again. “You have my exclusive Gimbo Tinkertorque guarantee.”

    "I will consider it done, Tinkertorque, when that head is stuffed and mounted on my wall."

    Tinkertorque smiled. “I promise you, Magistrate, you will get exactly that. I stake my honor and reputation on it.”

    The problem solvers left the town hall and Solomon was left hoping that he had made the right choice. He didn't entirely trust this Gimbo character. Tinkertorque's pitch was too polished, his smile too forced. The presence of an Orc and a Blood Elf in the group didn't help improve his peace of mind either. It was always a gamble dealing with Gnomes. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed. That Gnome had better pull through for him or the Explorers League was going to have some explaining to do.

 

    As the Problem Solvers loaded supplies onto their kodo beast, Gimbo put his fists on his hips, his pride swelling as he beamed at his companions. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have at last perfected our sales pitch,” he said. He cast a disparaging glance at Rosa. "Unexpected circus acts notwithstanding. After we make it big with this job, it'll go a long way towards paying off my debt to Nexus Prince Kalil. When an Ethereal lord threatens to add your brain in a jar to his vast collection of curios, I tend to believe him. There will be enough left over for us to be comfortable for a while too, of course. It’s fortunate that the four of you decided to gather yourselves under the wings of my entrepreneurial genius, eh?"

    As Mok pushed a bundle of weighted nets onto the huge kodo's back, he looked over his shoulder at Gimbo and scowled.

    Gimbo crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh don't give me that look, Mok. You know it's true.”

    "Here we go," Hilda muttered, rolling her eyes. Standing on the kodo's back, she bent down to help Mok lift and secure a giant spring trap.

    “Remember, I’m the one who talked you out of drunken oblivion from that dingy dive bar in Booty Bay and gave you a chance at gainful employment when no one else would. I risked my reputation on that one but it turned out exceptionally well for both of us, now didn’t it? Korridan, you know what I’m talking about. Back me up here."

    "Well, you are skilled in speeches and clever turns of phrase, I will give you that," Korridan said.

    Gimbo blinked. "What--that’s it?” He raised a finger. “Maybe you’ve forgotten that it’s also my unbound sense of enterprise that inspired me to invent our revolutionary spider-silk netting. The stuff that's going to stop Solomon's dragon dead in its tracks. Made from the silk of glassweb spiders, its micro-crystalline structure makes it super tough.” He pointed to twin harpoon guns built on a wooden platform mounted on Dadanga's back. “A flying dragon is hard to kill, but with the help of my brilliant harpoon delivery system, we entangle his wings in my indestructible netting and that dragon's a goner."

    “How can we forget about yer amazin' nettin’?” Hilda said. “Ye never shut up about it.”

    Gimbo narrowed his eyes at her.

    "Don't worry, love," Rosa said. "Dadanga and I think you're a genius." She patted the kodo beast on the head. Dadanga made a low rumbling sound and pushed his knobby head into Rosa's hand. She brought her other hand to his mouth, opening it to reveal a handful of pale green Un'Goro bloodpetal sprouts. Dadanga stuck his nose in and munched on them eagerly.

    "Well, at least I have the vote of the Worgen. Speaking of which, is it too much to ask that you arrive for my sales pitch in your delicate, beautiful, non-threatening, not at all wolf-like human form next time? It would be nice if you could curb your exhibitionism long enough for us to make it through the next populated area unscathed."

    "Oh, but where is the fun in that?" she said, grinning. Gimbo thought he saw fangs appear in her smile, but only for a moment.

    He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, I know it's all very amusing for you. Terrifying common Stormwind citizens and sending them fleeing for the hills in panic. The curse of the Worgen is supposed to be a curse, you know. You treat it like it's the grandest old thing in all of Azeroth."

    Rosa waved a hand dismissively. "Oh pish posh. There's a saying among the Worgen. You're only as cursed as you feel."

    He thrust his fists onto his hips. “That’s not a Worgen saying. You just made that up.”

    "Your problem-solvers speech is becoming dull, Gnome," Mok said. "Your sales pitch would improve with a better name."

    "Problem Solvers is the name we decided on, Mok. Don't you remember?"

    "I never agreed to it," Mok growled.

    "For the Light's sake. We took a fair vote. Korridan agreed with me, Rosa abstained, and Hilda said she would accept being known as 'The Pollywattles' if that would end our arguing about it. That's essentially a 'yes' vote. Three against one, Mok. Accept defeat."

    "Still don't like it."

    Gimbo threw up his hands. "Well why don't you just go sulk in a corner and cry about it!"

    "Don't test me, Gnome."

    "What now you're threatening me? After all we've been through together? Rosa, can you believe this?"

    She shrugged. Dadanga rumbled and pressed his nose against Rosa's shoulder as she scratched him under his chin.

    "Right," Gimbo said. "I suppose I should have predicted that response."

    "All I know is, once we're all done with this business, Solomon can keep his gold," she said. "I want that young Watch Captain Parker for my reward. Grrrowl." She chuckled and slid her tongue across her lips.

    Gimbo put his fists on hips and scowled at her. "He's married, Rosa. We met his wife Darcy at Three Corners, remember?"

    She stared at him for a moment and then looked up thoughtfully. "Oh...yes, I'd quite forgotten about that."

    He rolled his eyes. "Naturally."

    "Let's get this smelly beast goin’ and get out of here," Hilda said. "I'd love to reach Stonewatch Keep at some point this week if ye don't mind, Gimbo."

    "Hey, that 'smelly beast' just so happens to be one of the best investments I've ever made. He was the only good thing to come out of our problem-solving run in Un'goro Crater. The folks at Marshal's Refuge let him go for a bargain price too."

    "Fine. I don't care. Just get on." She sat down cross-legged on top of the pile of luggage and faced forward.

    Gimbo sighed. "Such an impatient Dwarf. Very well, let's go. Rosa, a leg up please."

    Rosa stood next to Dadanga and made a cup with her hands. Gimbo steeped into it and she lifted him until he could climb onto Dadanga's back. Rosa grabbed Dadanga's harness and pulled herself onto his back with a single, effortless motion.

    "Gotta love that Worgen vitality," Gimbo said.

    She smiled in response. "Thank you, love."

    Gimbo settled himself in front of the reigns and took hold of them. He gave them a shake.

    "Ho, Dadanga!" He barked. The kodo grunted and began to move forward, north, along the cobbled road leading higher into the mountains. Mok and Korridan walked alongside.

    "Are you two really going to walk the whole way?" Gimbo said. "It's nearly two day’s journey to Stonewatch."

    "I don't ride," Mok said.

    "Ah. The tough, stoic warrior. Of course."

    "I must keep up my lean elfish figure," Korridan said. "I don't wish to end up short and fat in my old age. You know...like a Dwarf."

    He smiled up at Hilda and she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Don't be surprised if ye find spit in yer next drink."

    "Besides," Korridan said, "your investment very much needs a bath." He covered his nose and moved a little farther away.

    Dadanga made a chuffing noise and seemed to gaze at Korridan in dumb innocence.

    "Everyone's a critic," Gimbo muttered.

    The group traveled for hours under the hot midday sun and into the waning afternoon light. A cool breeze coming out of the south kept the heat from being oppressive. Gimbo enjoyed the scenery if not the altitude. The air up here was much too dry--bad for his poor, ailing joints.

    Just entering his early fifties, Gimbo wasn’t quite a spry, young Gnome anymore. A fact his wife, Bibby, always made sure to remind him of when she would find out he’d accepted another problem-solving job that took him far from home. Bibby could have a sharp tongue, but he knew she meant well. And that she was often lonely when he was away, though she’d adamantly deny it. He just wished she wouldn’t harp on his age so loudly in public. In front of all his associates.

    The pass wound through wooded areas and crossed numerous swift-flowing brooks that spilled down the face of the ubiquitous red rock that gave this mountain range its name. It was all very picturesque. And after a time, intuition began to tell Gimbo that perhaps it was a bit too quiet as well.

    He looked around at his companions. Mok and Hilda conversed quietly with one another. Korridan was murmuring and making signs with one hand in front of his face. Gimbo could make out part of what he said. "Light, fill me with inner fire and lend me your strength for the coming battles ahead."

    Rosa sat facing rearward, her eyes closed. Her feet and head swayed back and forth as if moving to a melody that only she could hear. The calls of birds the gusting wind were all that stirred in the air.

    Gimbo decided that he should relax. After all, if there were danger afoot, Rosa would be the first one to smell it. Even in human form, her senses were much enhanced compared to those of an ordinary human. Gimbo sighed and smiled as a meadowlark struck up a tune in a nearby tree.

    The afternoon passed and his eyelids began to feel heavy. Dadanga was a sure-footed animal and he knew how to follow a road well. Perhaps it was time for a nap. He let his eyes drift shut and began to doze off. After what seemed like a few seconds, Gimbo was vaguely aware of a noise growing louder until his eyes snapped open at the heavy beat of wings overhead. His heart hammered as he sat bolt upright. The dragon!

    Gimbo looked to the sky, his eyes darting left and right, but he saw nothing. He looked around at his companions again. No one else seemed to have heard the beating wings. He glanced at Rosa, who was staring intently at the tree line off to their right. Maybe she smelled a rabbit? He expected any moment, she would spring from Dadanga's back, transforming, all teeth, claws, and fur, bounding off after her supper. Gimbo searched the sky again, but he neither saw nor heard any sign of a dragon.

    He laid back, his hands behind his head and closed his eyes again. Must have been nothing more than a lingering dream. Still...he was starting to feel a prickly sensation on the back of his neck. An instinct. Like he was being watched--

    A hand fell on Gimbo's shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared at Rosa crouched close behind him. He laughed nervously. "Oh, it's you. Rosa, you startled me."

    "Sorry, love. I thought you might want to know that we're being followed.”

    He blinked. "Followed? By whom?"

    Rosa sniffed the air, then made a face and covered her nose. "Gnolls, by the smell of them. Just beyond the tree line."

    "How many?"

    "A whole bloody lot. Dozens, maybe more."

    "I believe that we crossed into their territory roughly eight miles back," Korridan said.

    Gimbo scanned the tree line and glanced warily back at Rosa. "Are they preparing to attack?"

    She shrugged. "Hard to say. Most of them have been holding back well out of sight, but their scouts pussyfoot in closer and closer whenever they think I'm not paying attention. Little rotters. Keep a look out. They're up to no bleeding good, that's for sure."

    On that thought, the group traveled on into dusk. Gimbo pulled his cloak about his shoulders against a cold, easterly breeze. A thick stand of elms loomed ahead, their roots encroaching onto the road and pushing up the cobbles. In the failing light, Gimbo didn't see the spiked barricade spanning the road between two massive trunks until Dadanga came to a sudden halt in front of it. Dadanga recoiled from the spikes and gave a rumbling bellow.

    Whirling towards the left flank, Mok immediately drew both his swords and let out a roaring battle shout. Hilda stood on Dadanga's back and nocked an arrow. Rushing to the right flank, Korridan placed his staff firmly before him as holy Light gathered in his free hand. Gimbo looked around, eyes wide. Were the gnolls attacking? He couldn’t see a thing. There was a long silence as the Problem Solvers stood ready. Gimbo leaned in close to Rosa. “Rosa, where are they?” he hissed.

    The treeline on both sides of the road exploded. With ear-splitting howls, the gnolls charged out of the gloom, brandishing axes, spears, and all assortment of crude weaponry. A burly gnoll leading the charge on the left flank, fell dead almost instantly as Hilda's arrow pierced his chest. As he fell, Mok charged, roaring straight into the line of attackers behind him. Several gnolls faltered in the face of the Orc's ferocity. Their hesitation cost them their lives. Mok cut them down before they could react. The others were braver. Snarling in fury, four of them leaped upon Mok. He backhanded one into a tree as another struck at him with a dagger, aiming for his chest. Hilda's second arrow caught that gnoll in the throat. The overhanging treetops lit up brilliantly as Korridan cast smiting blasts of Holy Light against the gnolls on the right flank.

    A javelin came flying at Gimbo. He yelped and dodged it barely in time. Losing his balance, he tumbled off of Dadanga's back and hit the ground directly in the path of the gnolls charging in from the right side of the road. They rushed at him where he lay. Gimbo sprang to his feet and dashed underneath Dadanga. "Aaah! Rosa, do something!" he wailed.

    Rosa leaped from Dadanga's back, transforming in mid air. She hit the ground on all fours in front of Gimbo and stood up. She brandished her axe, hackles raised and fangs bared. “Time to take your licks, boys,” she snarled. “Come here and I’ll make jump ropes out of your entrails!”

    In that raging beast state of hers, Gimbo had no doubt she meant every word of her grisly threat. Even though he had witnessed her in the heat of battle before, that animal viciousness still gave him chills.

    She charged and the lead gnoll raised his wooden shield barely in time to block her first savage axe swing. Her axe thudded against his shield. As the lead gnoll staggered back under the force of her blow, the gnoll next to him swung his own axe at her and she quickly turned on him, parrying the blade aside, then raising her axe with both hands over her head. She shouted as she brought its full force down on the gnoll’s head, cleaving through his iron helmet and into his skull. A spray of blood followed the blade as she yanked it out and howled, her glowing eyes bright with glee.   

    Gnolls swarmed to press the attack against Rosa. For a moment, Gimbo was terrified that she was going to be overwhelmed, then Korridan rushed to her side.

    The elf raised his staff. "In the name of the Holy Light, I cast your foul souls back to the Twisting Nether!" A burning pillar of light came down from the sky, illuminating the dusky woods and engulfed a spear-wielding gnoll engaged with Rosa. The brilliance of it, cut through the dark and nearly blinded Gimbo. The gnoll began shrieking in pain and fear as his flesh was seared. Then he seemed to erupt into flames from the inside out as the light rapidly consumed his body. The gnoll fell to the ground, his charred, skeletal remains wafting black trails of smoke. A terrible way to die, Gimbo thought. But mercifully swift.

          An arrow struck at Korridan's feet and then another. He deflected the third arrow with his staff and turned on his attacker who stood near the shadowed treeline about twenty feet away, nocking another. Dark shadows began to swirl around Korridan, his voice sunk low and took on an otherworldly tone as he shouted, "PAIN!"

    Swirls of shadow magic descended upon the gnoll archer. He dropped his bow and grabbed his head, his eyes going wide. He fell to the ground shrieking and reeling.

    The remaining gnolls engaged with Rosa stared at Korridan with wide eyes, dropped their weapons and fled, yelping as they went. Rosa didn't bother to chase them, instead holding her ground at Korridan's side. They seemed prepared for a renewed assault.

    A furious howl stopped the fleeing gnolls in their tracks. Their ears flattened and they cowered at the sound. An enormous, scarred gnoll, missing one eye, emerged from the woods, wielding a great war hammer and a spiked, iron shield. Two cloaked and hooded mystics followed behind him. They mystics cast a spell and a glowing, magical shield enveloped all three. The huge chieftain shouted at the others in the guttural gnoll language. They immediately obeyed and turned back to face Rosa and Korridan. Those who had kept their weapons raised them and charged forward again. The rest joined them, some retrieving any weapons within reach, others readying to fight with their bare paws. Their chieftain was highly persuasive indeed.

    As Rosa hewed open the chest of a gnoll, wrenched her axe out and kicked another in the face with her boot, Korridan cast a smiting blast against the mystics' shield. The spell struck the barrier but appeared to have no effect on it.

    The chieftain laughed out loud. "I am Yowler, son of Yowler!" he snarled. "You all die now!" He bore down upon Korridan with great speed. Though protected from attacks from the outside, the chieftain was able to strike out at Korridan with his hammer, unhindered through the shield.

    Korridan raised his staff to block the incoming blow. The chieftain's hammer impacted against his staff and staggered him back, nearly disarming him. Korridan cried out in pain. The chieftain didn't let up, striking again and again.

    Gimbo heard a noise behind him. He whirled and saw a gnoll crouched under Dadanga, sword drawn, crawling towards him. The gnoll snarled and gnashed his teeth when he saw he'd been discovered. He lifted his sword to strike.

    Cursing, Gimbo yanked his hood it up, grabbed the hem of his cloak and threw it about himself. The gnoll halted, staring in confusion. Gimbo hadn’t moved, but the gnoll’s eyes seemed focused passed him, as if staring through him. Wrapped in shadows under his cloak’s enchantment, Gimbo circled the gnoll with expert swiftness and crept behind him. He drew his dagger and held it poised to strike. He stared at the gnoll’s shaggy back and his grip on his dagger tightened, his knuckles whitening. His heart hammered in his chest. He felt paralyzed. All he could think about was the blood, the blade rupturing flesh, eviscerating organs and stopping a live, beating heart. He began to tremble. He couldn’t. He had to. There was no time!

    The sniffed the air, his ears perking up. He snarled and whirled.

    A shock of panic. Gimbo’s eyes shot open. He plunged his dagger into the side of the gnoll’s neck as the mongrel turned, sending his jaws flying wide in a strangled shriek. Clawing futilely at the blade, the gnoll’s eyes rolled towards Gimbo. Gimbo squeezed his shut until he heard the gnoll collapse forward. Opening his eyes again, he watched the gnoll writhing on the ground for a few moments before growing still.

    Panting and holding his chest, Gimbo stared at the gnoll’s lifeless body. He’d done it. A terrible, unforgivable thing--but he’d done it. He had it in him after all. He wrenched his dagger out and kicked the gnoll's body out from under Dadanga. He gripped the hem of his cloak. "Cloak of shadows," he said, his voice trembling. "Second best investment I've ever made."

    Korridan shouted, "PAIN!" Gimbo looked up and watched swirls of shadow dissipate uselessly against the chieftain's shield. Rosa dashed in front of Korridan and deflected the chieftain's next hammer strike with her battle axe.

    "Korridan," she yelled, "Get back! You're drawing too much attention to yourself!"

    "Agreed," he said.

    As he retreated, he held out his open palm towards her and shouted, "SHIELD!" The word was a deafening thunder that reverberated through the trees. A sphere of protective light surrounded her, bathing everything around her in brilliance. The chieftain's blows struck the barrier, their force entirely absorbed by the spell. The chieftain snarled in rage.

    One of his mystics, apparently sensing the irony of unstoppable force meets immovable object, was unable to suppress a snicker. It was likely the biggest mistake the mongrel had made in his entire wretched life. The chieftain roared and whirled on the mystic, kicking at him savagely. The mystic yelped and fell backward, losing control of his share of the shield. The shield wavered as the second mystic struggled to maintain it alone.

    Gimbo was certain the shield was weak enough now to punch through with a determined strike. He didn't have to guess for long when a pillar of light burned through the shield, engulfing the shrieking mystic in flames. The chieftain stared, his face etched with shock at the shield vanishing around him, then rage filled his eyes. He howled, charging at Korridan with hammer raised.

    Mok came rushing in on the chieftain's flank. Halting in his charge to face Mok, the chieftain raised his iron shield. Mok bore down on him with both swords, striking the shield alternately with one, then the other. The chieftain stumbled back under the force of Mok’s attack. Trying unsuccessfully to strike back with his hammer, he parried a sword blow, blocked another and continued to give ground. Korridan retreated a short distance away and closed his eyes, lips moving silently.

     Gimbo turned and peered out from Dadanga's left side. He watched Hilda as she fired an arrow into the back of a single fleeing gnoll. He fell among the scattered bodies of his comrades--all that remained of the devastated left flank attack. Returning to Dadanga's right side, Gimbo saw the chieftain, surrounded by a handful of his underlings. They had forced Mok to retreat from his attack and now he stood side by side with Rosa and Korridan. Hilda joined them, arrow nocked and bowstring stretched back. The gnolls began to back away from their chieftain, eyes darting between the four adversaries standing against them. The chieftain shouted at them but they continued to back away.

    Rosa pointed her axe at the chieftain, baring her fangs in a grin. “We accept your surrender! Come on now, put the hammer down. There's a love.”

    The chieftain spat on the ground, let out a howl, and charged forward with his shield before him.

    Rosa readied her axe as her glowing eyes flashed with feral glee. “I was hoping that would be your answer!”

    “Everyone get behind me,” Korridan shouted. A pillar of light enveloped him, causing the gnolls to stagger back as they shielded their eyes. Korridan’s eyes blazed and fire gathered in his hands. His robes began to undulate as if blowing in the wind as his entire body glowed with holy light.

    Rosa's eyes widened. “Oh bugger!” She dashed behind Korridan, followed immediately by Mok and Hilda.

    A tremendous holy nova exploded from Korridan and washed over the entire group of gnolls. The chieftain screamed as the full force of the nova seared away all his fur and licks of holy energy tore his body to shreds, throwing him into the ground.

    When the nova faded, Gimbo uncovered his eyes and stared at the terrible aftermath, the chieftain blackened and smoking, dead among the scattered bodies of his underlings. Patches of the surrounding foliage burned, casting flickering light against shadowed tree trunks. A single surviving gnoll, dazed and scorched, rose to his knees.

    Rosa swung her axe and plunged it into his skull, sending him back to the ground for good. “Well, love...you had your chance,” she said dryly.

    Gimbo crawled out from under Dadanga. Rising to his feet, he threw his hands in the air. "Bravo! Korridan, you're amazing! Why didn't you open with that?"

    "It takes intense focus and clarity of mind to call upon the greatest powers of the Light. The Light can't simply be manipulated like the arcane power of a mage."

    Gimbo quickly nodded. "Of course, of course. But by great Muradin's beard, that was incredible! I’m telling you--you carry this group, Korridan!" He paused, then slowly turned to look at Mok, Rosa, and Hilda, who were glaring back at him. He forced a smile chuckled uneasily.  "Oh, please don't get me wrong, the rest of you were great too. Amazing. Just not quite as amazing as Korridan."

    "Yer praise is heart-liftin'," Hilda said.

    "Perhaps Korridan and the Gnome should do all the fighting next time," Mok said.

    "Aye, good idea. Korridan, ye could use Gimbo as a shield.” She shouldered her bow.  "Mok, come help me find me arrows in all this gore." She walked away and Mok gave Gimbo one more withering glare before following after her.

    Grimacing, Gimbo looked back and forth between the two in distress. "Friends...comrades, come on now. Don't be angry. I didn't mean it that way. Rosa, tell them!"

    The blade of her axe still embedded in the gnoll's skull, she stood with her hands crossed over the pommel, resting her chin on top of them. "I'm afraid you've misstepped, love."

    "Gimbo, please," Korridan said. "I cannot accept the grand praise you give to me, nor the credit for our victory. The others fought as well and as true as I did. The power that I wield comes only by the grace of the Light which resides in the hearts of all noble beings. It is not you or I, but only the Light through us that truly triumphs--"

    Korridan stopped short when a great shadow passed over the Problem Solvers. Gimbo heard enormous wings beating in the sky. This time it wasn't his imagination. Everyone looked to the sky as a black dragon circled above them in the pale light of the rising moon.

    “Problem Solvers, code thirty-two!” Gimbo shouted.  “Keep the dragon distracted while I go for the harpoons!” He shrouded himself in his cloak and made a run for Dadanga and the harpoon platform.

    The black dragon plunged down and landed on all fours in the midst of Hilda, Mok, Rosa, and Korridan. He surveyed the Problem Solvers with haughty sneer. “So!” he boomed. “What is this? A group of heroes? I have yet to see the likes of you in these mountains. Were you looking for me perhaps?”

    Gimbo climbed onto Dadanga's back. He searched for his wrapped bundles of spider-silk netting in the dim light, found them and began loosening the ropes that tied them. The bundles came with two steel-headed harpoons attached to each end of the netting, one to be loaded into each gun.

    "That's a wee bit presumptuous, isn't it?" Hilda said, watching the dragon warily as she took two steps back.

    "I observed your battle from the sky." The dragon chuckled. "You did quite well against a band of slavering dogs. Perhaps you will present some small sport for me. It's about time. I've become quite bored with razing fields, incinerating helpless farmers and mewling women and children.”

    "Splendid!" Rosa said, bracing one foot against the body of the gnoll as she wrenched her axe out of its skull and pointed it at him. "I want dragon steak for supper!"

    The black dragon's eyes flared with anger and his throat glowed red hot. "Insolent Worgen! How dare you! Do you realize just who you are speaking to? You and your companions will know today the price of defying the son of Nefarian!"

    Having discarded the wrappings, lined with a special preparation to keep them from sticking to the netting, Gimbo unrolled a bundle, angled the guns outwards, and began loading the harpoons into the barrels.

    “Nefarian?” Korridan said. “Your father is the great lord of Blackrock Spire himself?" His eyes seemed to say, “whatever you're going to do, do it before we’re all torched to death.”

    Gimbo's thrust his hand out from under his cloak and pointed with his thumb, indicating that he wanted Korridan to move to the left. Korridan carefully sidestepped in that direction while keeping his eyes on the dragon. The dragon turned with him, continuing to face him.  

    "Our apologies, illustrious one," Korridan continued. "We seem to have blundered here.” He glanced at Gimbo again and Gimbo gave the thumbs up sign.

    The dragon’s smile returned. "Indeed you have. You were fools to come hunting me, but you won't have long to regret it. When I have torn your bodies to shreds, all will know to tremble in fear at the name of--"

    Gimbo pulled the trigger, firing both guns at once. The netting spread in midair to a width of twelve feet across, hitting the dragon in the face and plastering his head to the side of his body. The harpoons thudded into the ground, sinking deep.

    The dragon bellowed. "Gaaaah!"

    "Rosa," Gimbo yelled. "Get up here and take the reigns! Get us behind him!"

    Rosa stowed her axe in a clasp attached to her back plate, dropped to all fours, and bounded to Dadanga. She leaped straight from the ground, onto his back, grabbed the reins and shook them, shouting "Ho, Dadanga!" The kodo charged off, circling behind the dragon at Rosa's direction. Gimbo hurriedly loaded another set of netting into the guns and fired again. The netting pinned the dragon's wings against his back.

    "Fools!" the dragon shouted, pushing and stretching the webbing with his head only for the webbing to snap his head back against his body. "You will--ungh--pay for this!"

    "Off with his head!" Rosa cheered.

    Mok stood before the dragon, swords drawn. "Don't struggle, dragon, and I will ensure you a clean, quick death," he said. A mist gathered under his feet and a whirlwind began to develop around him, gathering leaves and dust in its wake.

    For the first time, the dragon's haughty expression was replaced by one of terror. Eyes wide, he pushed frantically against the netting with his wings and his forelegs. "No! No, wait!"

    Mok dashed forward with blinding speed. The whirlwind launched him into a mighty leap with his swords raised over his head, the twin blades glinting in the moonlight.

    With a heave, the dragon tore a foreleg loose from the netting and quickly shielded his face. Mok's swords hit the dragon's foreleg at an angle, failing to penetrate the armored scales and glancing off. Mok thudded back to the ground on his feet.

     He looked at Gimbo, his eyes flaring. “Gnome! You said your netting is invincible!”

    Gimbo stared aghast at the torn glassweb silk. “What--no! Impossible!”

    With his claws, the dragon tore the netting away from his head, leaving fluttering strands sticking between his toes and tangled in his horns. Hilda drew back two arrows at once and hesitated. When the moonlight was on his scales, she loosed. The arrows penetrated his neck just behind his jawline and he bellowed in pain. Turning furiously upon her, he drew in a long breath and his throat glowed red hot. Hilda cursed and dove to the side as the dragon spewed an enormous, blinding jet of fire. Gimbo shielded his eyes but couldn’t see where she fell.

    Mok charged the dragon, shouting a war cry. He thrust a sword at the dragon's chest but the dragon intercepted the strike with his claws. Mok dodged away as the dragon swiped at him with the massive talons, then he brought both swords down, cleaving through the dragon’s foreleg and opening twin red gashes. Roaring, the dragon savagely backhanded Mok, sending him reeling.

    Gimbo had just finished loading another roll of netting into the harpoon guns when the dragon turned his attention on Dadanga. “I see what’s happening over there. Come out of the shadows, interloper!” He snarled and drew in his breath. His throat glowed like the blazing furnace of a steam tank.

    “Great Magni's beard!” Gimbo yelled. He dove off of Dadanga and Rosa followed immediately after him. The dragon's fiery breath hit the harpoon platform, and exploded against it, demolishing it in a shower of flaming planks and splinters. Dadanga reeled, bellowed, and fled toward the trees, the fiery wreckage of the platform along with burning equipment and supplies tumbling off his back as he went.

    Gimbo got to his knees and reached helplessly after Dadanga. “No! Dadanga, come back!” The kodo beast crashed through the tree line and disappeared into the night-shrouded forest.

    Korridan shouted, "PAIN!"

    The dragon roared and writhed as the shadows swirled around him. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he heaved mightily with his wings against the netting. They tore through the spider-silk and he beat them, tearing free from the rest of the netting and rising into the air.

    "Flying--f-flying dragon!" Gimbo stammered. "Problem Solvers, code one! Everyone, retreat to the forest!"

    Hilda and Korridan joined Mok and they ran towards Gimbo and Rosa as the dragon sent a jet of fire descending upon them like burning phosphorus from a Goblin flame cannon. Korridan stretched out a hand and boomed, "BARRIER!" A wall of light formed and arched up over the whole group, creating a shimmering barrier in the path of the dragon’s fire. The flames collided with the light, spreading out over the barrier and dissipating uselessly into the night air.

    Leaving the barrier behind, the group sprinted into the trees where Dadanga had crashed through. They fled, following Dadanga's trampled path through the underbrush. Burning debris had continued to fall from his back, creating a fire-lit trail scattered across the forest floor.

    Gimbo dodged past one of his large spring traps, broken in half. He thought he could still hear Dadanga somewhere up ahead, crashing through brush and foliage. Gimbo heard the beating of the dragon's wings in the sky and through a gap in the trees, he saw the dragon's shape outlined against the light of the moon. Moments later, a jet of fire tore through the boughs overhead, incinerating entire treetops on its way down. Gimbo shielded his eyes against the blaze as the fire exploded against the ground at their heels.

    Gimbo’s heart hammered. Cogs, that one was so close. Would the next one be the end of them? Did they really have anywhere to run? Flee deeper into the forest, he told himself. Use the trees-- stay out of sight! His foot caught against something heavy and his eyes flew open shock as he plummeted forward. Yelling, he thrust his arms out to break his fall. He hit the ground and rolled, landing on his back. He sat up and squinted in the dark. The remains of one of the harpoon guns lay in the path behind him, a harpoon, torn away from its netting still loaded inside. It looked smashed and it was still smoldering, but Gimbo was filled with hope that the internal mechanism just might still be intact.

    The sound of the dragon's wings moved ahead of them and a jet of fire cut across the path ahead. The dragon continued to circle, creating a ring of fire more than twenty feet in diameter, encompassing the Problem Solvers. The light of the flames obscured everything beyond them, causing Gimbo to lose sight of the dragon above.

    He jumped to his feet and tried to lift the gun off the ground. Struggling with its great weight, he managed to stand it up on its end. He stopped there, breathing hard. This wouldn't do. Even if he was able to lift it, there was no way he'd be able to aim it properly. "Mok, help me!" he yelled. "Get this gun up on your shoulders! I'll aim! Hurry!"

    Mok was next to him in a moment, lifting the gun to his shoulders and kneeling in front of him, facing forward. They pointed the harpoon skyward.

    “Have it him, boys!” Rosa cheered. “Skewer my steak for me!”

    The dragon swooped into view over the ring of fire and smoke and dove towards the forest floor. He came straight at Gimbo and Mok, the fire reflecting off his scales as he roared. "Nowhere to run, insects! Now you will suffer!"

    Gimbo aimed the gun at the dragon's chest, then he realized that without the trigger, he had no way of releasing the spring-loaded firing mechanism. Thinking quickly, he hit the gun with his fist as hard as he could. Nothing happened. He hit it again.

    "Any time now, boys!" Rosa said, glancing between them and the dragon.

    He kept hitting the gun frantically. The dragon was upon them. Gimbo's paled in terror. He was all out of options--they were all going die! The spring mechanism suddenly released and the harpoon fired. The recoil rocked him back, almost throwing him off his feet.

    The dragon's eyes flew open in shock as the harpoon thudded into his chest. He veered off course, collided with a thick oak tree, and plowed into the ground on his side. A storm of leaves and soil sprayed up in front of him as his body ground to a halt less than ten feet away from Gimbo and Mok. The dragon struggled to his feet and grabbed at the harpoon's wooden shaft, trying to pull it out. "Impossible!” he roared. “I am a son of Nefarian! I cannot fall to mere mortals!”

    Gimbo saw that the harpoon had struck him in the right side of his chest. Considering that the dragon was alive and kicking, it must have just missed his heart.

    Rosa brandished her axe and charged forward. Firelight flickered against her wild face as her lips pulled back from her fangs in an almost fetishistic grin. "Dragon steak!"

    The dragon cried out fearfully and swung his tail at her, the clubbed end coming around fast. “Oh bugger.” was all Rosa was able to get out before the club slammed her in the chest, batting her aside.

    The dragon beat his great wings, rising off the ground and quickly gaining altitude as he began to retreat. He broke off the harpoon shaft and tossed it into the treetops. " Curse you! This isn't over!” he called back. My father will avenge me! Your doom is upon your heads! Do you understand me?" He flew over the treetops and north towards the mountain peaks.

    Hilda rushed to where Rosa lay against a Rock, clutching her side. “Rosa!” Hilda said. “Are ye alright? Are ye hurt? Talk ta meh!”

    “Not to worry, old girl,” Rosa said, her ears laid back as she grimaced in pain. “I'm a bit dented, that's all. It’ll take more than a dragon's club to break a suit of fine, tempered saronite.”

    “Are you sure you are fit to stand and walk?” Korridan asked, care in his eyes.

    “Positive, love.”

    With Hilda's help, Rosa got to her feet and shook off. She gazed mournfully into the sky. “My dragon steak. I was going to be gnawing through your red flesh and licking your sweet blood off my lips all night long.”

    “Shall we persue the vile dragon princeling?” Korridan said.

    “How?” Gimbo said. “We can't track him in the dark of night."

    "The beast is vanquished, Hilda cut in. "Aren't we bloomin' done here? I say we head back now and collect our bounty."

    Gimbo shook his head. "We can't be sure that he's defeated. We may have wounded him, but the harpoon missed his heart and dragons are damned resilient. Believe me. He’s alive and I have no doubt that he plans to make good on his promise to return and continue his rampage against the people of these mountains. My money says he’s retreating to Stonewatch Keep to recoup, that would be his most logical option.”

    Korridan and Mok looked grim. Gimbo could tell they were thinking the same thing he was.

    “Well...this is turning into rather an adventure now, isn't it?” Rosa said, shouldering her axe.

    Hilda crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at her. “I'm happy to see yer still havin’ fun despite everythin’.”

    Rosa looked at her and tried for a grin that failed hallway through as she still winced from her bruises.

    Gimbo sighed, feeling for his companions. “As soon as we get out of this ring of fire, we'll set up camp and track him down in the morning. Solomon will have his dragon head one way or another. Korridan, care to shield us through the blaze?”

    Korridan nodded. “Certainly.”

 

    Rosa, in human form, put her forefingers up to her temples and said gruffly, "Me so horn-ed! Me love you long time!" The impression immediately brought peals of laughter from Korridan and Hilda. It even drew a hearty chuckle from Mok, which was rare. The group lounged around a campfire a short distance from the road, a makeshift batch of Hilda’s famous hotchpotch boiling in an iron pot upon the flames. They had lost the slabs of meat Rosa had saved from her kill in Lakeshire after Dadanga bolted, so Hilda and Rosa had gone out and caught a pair of rabbits and a pheasant. For his part, Gimbo used his minor herbal skills he had learned long ago to find a few wild carrots and tiny onions to add to the stew. It was a sufficient meal.

    The licking flames chased away the chill of the night as smoke and sparks rose towards the brilliantly starry sky. Far beyond the light of the fire, shadowed mountain ridges surrounded and looked down on them like black stone sentinels keeping their ancient watch.

    As Rosa grinned, basking in the mirth of her companions, Gimbo grimaced inwardly, feeling violated by the image her impression had stuck in his mind. While he didn't always appreciate her earthy sense of humor, he couldn't deny her usual ability to bring levity in even the direst of times. Except for this time. Right now Gimbo felt as if he would never laugh again.

    His brilliant spider-silk netting had failed. The harpoon platform was destroyed, half their supplies were strewn out all over the woods, and no one knew where Dadanga's was. They had tried to track his path through the forest until Rosa lost his scent along the banks a wide river, the trail disappearing into its thundering rapids. Gimbo could only hope he hadn't drowned.

    He cradled a piece of the netting in his hands, staring down at it as tiny sparks from the fire passed through the smoky haze before his eyes. He took a portion of the netting in his fists and stretched the spider-silk until it broke. What went wrong? It had gotten brittle somehow. Was it the heat of the dragon's hide? Prolonged exposure to the air? Perhaps it was the wrappings...the chemical that he used to treat it could have interacted with the natural properties of the glassweb silk, thereby weakening it significantly. That must be it, he was sure. How could he have made such a terrible blunder? He should have run more tests, been more vigilant in his research. Why had this happened to him? He sighed heavily, staring at the spider-silk in the firelight, mourning over the demise of his foolproof invention. Only, he had been the fool all along.

    “Then the knight said...I never say 'ni'!” Gimbo looked up as Hilda finished her jest. She looked around at everyone, bright-faced and grinning. They all stared back.

    “I don't get it,” Rosa said, frowning.

    Hilda looked at the others and they shook their heads. She gave a disgusted wave of her hand. “Bah! Ye louts wouldn't know proper, sophisticated humor if it came up an' punched ye in yer ever-lovin' faces.”

    Rosa waved at Gimbo. “Gimbo, Why are you still sulking over there, love? Come closer and join in the festivities. Completely devoid of any proper, sophisticated humor whatsoever.”

    Not surprisingly, Rosa had traded her armor for leather breeches and a very low-cut shirt that bared plenty of cleavage and a wide swath of midriff. By contrast, Hilda had changed into a rather conservative full-length dress with a light vest over the blouse. Korridan had taken off his long outer robe and sat in a tunic and light pants. They all looked so relaxed, unaffected by the unfortunate events of the day. Gimbo hadn't even changed out of his cloak and travel boots.

    He looked down at the netting and back at her. Oh why not? He tossed the useless stuff aside and moved the log he was sitting on nearer to the fire, taking off his cloak and kicking off his boots as he did so.

    Rosa put her arms out wide. “There's a love!” She patted Gimbo on the head as he sat down, then took a swig from the skin of dwarven stout in her other hand.

     “Concerning our previous topic,” Korridan said. “I didn't hear what you would fear the most to encounter in a dark alleyway, Mok.”

    Mok crossed his arms over his chest. “I fear nothing,” he said with a shrug.

    “Oh come now. We all have our secret nightmares. Even Hilda admitted she's terrified of giant insects.”

    “Hilda's jests then, perhaps.”

    Hilda flashed him a furious glare. “Hey!”

    Rosa hopped up from her seat, sat down with him and sidled up close. “That's my Mok!” she said. “The only real man this side of the whole bleeding mountains.” She ran a hand up his muscular forearm and squeezed it appraisingly. She pressed up against him and crossed a leg over his lap in a way that gave him a clear view down her cleavage. “I wouldn't mind meeting this big, strong chap in a dark alleyway. Alone. Intimate. Away from prying eyes.” She delicately cupped her hand under his massive jaw, then slid her fingers slowly down his scarred chest.

    Mok didn't look at her. “Away with your touch, woman,” he said. “I left behind such comforts long ago.”

    Rosa took her leg off his lap and faced forward with a huff. “Oh, pish! You're no fun at all!”

    Hilda sneered. “He left fun behind long ago too.”

    Rosa scowled for a moment, then licked her red lips and looked at Korridan. “Perhaps tall and fair will satisfy the beast.”

    Korridan shook his head. “Don't bring those bedroom eyes over here. I'm a holy man.”

    She sighed wearily and looked at Gimbo. “Fine. Short and squat it is then.”

    Gimbo put up his hands. “Sorry. Married.”

    She shrugged.

    “Perhaps you could go out and find a handsome, clean-shaven gnoll gentleman to keep you company,” Korridan said. “I hear they're clumsy lovers, but I'm certain you could share a few fleas between the two of you if nothing else.”

    Rosa took another long swig of stout and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Very funny.”

    As Gimbo sat lost in thought, he began to plan the endgame of this venture. The dragon may have gotten away for now but he wasn't going to take the humiliation lying down. He had a gut feeling that the fiend wasn't dead yet--but dead or alive--he planned to have that dragon's head before the week was out. He thought about his brilliant, failed netting again and set his jaw.

    I may be only a humble Gnome, he thought, but no one humiliates Gimbo Tinkertorque and gets away with it for long. Not even a black dragon.

 

    The fire burned low in the deep of the night. Gimbo lay in his bedroll, looking up at the stars. He couldn't sleep for Mok's snoring. He looked to his left where the Orc lay near Rosa and Hilda, on his back and his mouth open, whence came the loud grinding noise. Hilda stirred, lifted a leg from under her blanket and kicked Mok in the back. The Orc rolled over onto his side and the noise stopped for a few moments, before starting again as loud as ever.

    Korridan sat upright in his bedroll a short way off, his eyes closed in deep thought or prayer--Gimbo wasn't sure which. He'd sat like that for hours. Gimbo didn't know how he managed to do it. Being a champion of the Light apparently requires endless meditation. He didn't envy the Blood Elf at all.

    Of all in the group, Korridan was the one whom Gimbo knew least about. Before the Problem Solvers had a name, when the entirety of the group consisted of Gimbo and Mok as his bodyguard, they had met Korridan while problem-solving for a client in Ratchet. He claimed to be on a missionary journey to minister to the innocents of the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor, abandoned by their nation's armies who fought ceaselessly against the undead scourge in Northrend.

    Gimbo saw in Korridan a chance to expand his group's activity, to branch into a wider range of problem-solving. Imagining all the exquisite opportunities from adding a healer and powerful caster to his group, he offered Korridan an employment contract. He had thought it a long shot, but somewhat strangely, Korridan readily accepted, saying that the Light looked well upon the arrangement. What his full intentions were in joining the Problem Solvers, even here with them now, Gimbo could only guess at.

    Gimbo heard a shuffling noise and looked at Rosa. She lay splayed out on her bedroll with her blanket thrown off to one side. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, almost like a dog panting. She seemed to always breathe like this when she slept, even in human form. She kicked in her sleep and quiet groan escaped her lips. Wrapping her arms around her body, she lay there shivering for a moment, then dark fur sprouted from her skin and spread all over her body. Her feet elongated, pads developing on her soles and claws protruded from her toes. Her hands grew larger, her nails stretching and thickening into massive, long claws, her face protruded and formed into a muzzle, and her ears became tall, cavernous, and pointed.  

    She had changed in her sleep again. Gimbo didn't want to imagine tonight what dark, terrible dreams drove her body to manifest the ever-present beast inside. He knew about her dark past. The tragedy, the loss. Though she refused to talk about it herself, Gimbo had heard the full story from Hilda.

    As a young Gilnean baroness living outside the Greymane Wall, Rosa had been among the first to be turned after Archmage Arugal summoned the druids of the fang into Azeroth. She grew up as a Worgen, sustained by his dark magic, serving the Archmage faithfully and unquestioningly as one of his adopted children for over ten years. She later joined Alpha Prime's Wolf Cult, fighting in the Northgate Rebellion as a cover while spreading the curse in Gilneas, unwittingly betraying her people to a Forsaken invasion. When Arugal and the Worgen of Shadowfang Keep were slain by a band of crusaders, she lost her father, her pack...all that she loved, left only with the terrible guilt of what she had brought upon her countrymen and the ever-encroaching terror of the Mindless State. The journey from that to the happy, vivacious, and noble woman she was now had been a long and winding one.

    Smiling tenderly, Gimbo wished her restful sleep and at least that the nightmares might fade from her subconscious memory before daybreak. She claimed never to remember anything the next morning, but he doubted if that were always true.

    There was a rustling in the trees behind Gimbo and heavy footsteps approaching. He sat bolt upright and looked fearfully towards the noise. Peering into the darkness, he watched as Dadanga's familiar knobby head came into view in the dying firelight. The kodo looked at him and snorted, his tangled reins swaying under his thick neck.

    Gimbo shook his head disdainfully. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

 

Blackrock Spire, late the next night:  

 

    High within the halls of Blackwing Lair, amid the deepest dungeons and sanctums of the Black Dragonflight, Nefarian, lord of the spire, poured over a heavy wooden table strewn with alchemy apparati, bubbling potions, and the various body parts of slaughtered whelps. Shelves set into the walls of his cluttered chamber were littered with dark tomes written in esoteric languages and vile artifacts from all corners of the world. Pieces of servitors of the Old Gods, a claw, a scale or a tentacle--demonic reliquaries and idols covered in burning runes. The preserved head of a massive Tauren warrior he had taken himself during his years as a young drake. A prized possession.

    Cloaked in the human guise of Lord Victor Nefarious, the dragon clutched a vial of the blood of a blue whelp in an ashen hand and poured half of it into a beaker filled with a dark, churning mixture of magical essences. His red eyes shifting across the glass surface, observing the reaction carefully before he dipped a syringe into the beaker and pulled back the stop, filling its length with the concoction.

    Thrusting the needle into a chunk of green whelp flesh, he injected the contents of the syringe and watched the flesh for a reaction. It glowed faintly--at first amber, then violet before gradually subsiding to a slightly darker shade of green than before. Nefarian grunted in mild disappointment, then set about combining a new mixture of essences.

    Behind him lounged the massive form of his prime consort, Villiona, upon a bed of cushions, her polished, black scales iridescing almost violet in the torchlight. The dragoness possessed an impressive display of horns and spikes on the crown of her head and along her jawline, the two primary horns arching over the back of her skull and spiraled like those of an antelope. The wattle extending from her neck to her chest hung low, showing a respectable maturity in years.

    Villiona lay with her hooked talons curled into a fist under her chin, propped up on one elbow as she watched her mate. She gave a tired sigh. “Darling, I understand that perfecting the Chromatic Dragonflight is very important to you, but you've been mulling over those potions, essences and body parts all day. You've been neglecting me, darling. Won't you come to bed now?"

    Nefarian scoffed. "Important to me? If only it were important to you as well. Ever since the miserable failure of my late sister's ‘grand masquerade,' my work here has become vastly more critical. The key to our victory of the other Dragonflights and meddlesome Stormwind as well depends on its success."

    "It is important to me, believe me, darling. I hate the great Aspects as much as you do. Our enemies are myriad, I know. But you have minions that can carry on the research in your stead. Perhaps I don't understand the depth of obsession that causes you to forsake your prime consort."

    Obsidia, Nefarian's secondary consort, just then striding into the room spoke up. "It's useless trying to make him see reason, sister consort. You would be better off talking to a fence post. Or making love to one for that matter."

    Villiona rolled her eyes and looked away, looking even more gloomy.

    Nefarian bent low over his table and clenched his teeth together, breathing out between them. "Obsidia...I've dreaded the hour when I would begin to hear your banshee voice screeching in my ears tonight."

    She sneered. "You call yourself a man? What kind of man trades the warm embrace of his consorts for a pile of potions? If you're going to ignore Villiona and me, you could at least give poor Seetheria one night. You haven't so much as given her the time of day in weeks. You know she has such a tender heart for you, though I can't imagine why.”

    Seetheria, lounging nearby, looked at Obsidia but said nothing. As third consort, she knew it was not her place to assert herself in a confrontation between her mate and her higher ranking sister-consorts.

    “Perhaps the problem goes a bit deeper. Perhaps you find it difficult to raise the war banner nowadays, dear Nefarian?"

    A smile perked up at the edges of his mouth. “If you're so desperate for male attention, Obsidia, why don't you go run to Blackhand? You and Rend are old friends, aren't you?”

    Obsidia looked shocked. She glanced quickly between Villiona and Seetheria. “What is that supposed to mean?”

    “I've seen the way you look at that Orc. I've seen you sneaking off to the lower spire when you think I don't notice. Rumor has it, you two have been keeping very close company."

    Obsidia bared her teeth and her eyes burned with rage. “Why you pompous--how dare you!” She took wing, landed behind him, and drew back a foreleg to strike him.

    Turning on her, Nefarian rapidly shifted into dragon form, dodged her strike, then grabbed her by the neck and pushed her up against a wall. He came snout to snout with her, glaring into her eyes.

    Obsidia stared at him, then smiled sultrily. “Oh I like where this is going. Go on. Show me more.”

    Nefarian tightened his grip around her neck. “Shall I prove to you that I can still raise the war banner?” He turned his head to the side and pushed his snout up under her chin, growling as he pinched the soft scales of her neck there between his fangs, drawing a purring chuckle from her.

    Seetheria was unable to hold back a snort of laughter.

    “Enough!” Villiona boomed. She narrowed her eyes at Obsidia. “I see what you're playing at, you harlot! You only provoke him so that you can slither your way into his bed!”

    “You had him three nights ago!” Obsidia shot back. “It's my turn!”

    “I am prime consort! I decide whose turn it is!”

    Someone at the entrance to the room cleared their throat loudly. Nefarian looked to see an armored Orc standing in the doorway, his green skin painted with ash in the tradition of the Blackrock Clan. Nefarian scowled at him. “What is the meaning of this? I gave clear instructions that I was not to be disturbed!”

    The Orc knelt upon one knee before him. “Begging your pardon, Lord Nefarian,” he said, “but your son is here to see you. He was very adamant.”

    Nefarian raised an eyebrow. “My son?”

    “Father!” A young dragon burst into the room, sending the Orc diving out of the way to avoid being crushed. The dragon limped on three legs, the fourth bound up in a splint. A bloodied bandage was wrapped around his chest. “Father,” the dragon said. “I have encountered warriors in the Redridge Mountains! Powerful warriors. They have dared to challenge your dominion over those lands. Please, you must lend me a squadron of dragons to set out at once against them. We have to make these fools pay!”

    Nefarian glared at the young dragon, then looked at of his consorts quizzically and raised an eyebrow.

    “That's Umbrion,” Villiona said. “He's Seetheria's."

    Nefarian nodded. "Umbrion...yes, her first-hatched.” He turned to the young dragon. “I understand that you have been busy making a name for yourself of late."

    Umbrion smiled and pushed out his chest as he stood up straighter. "Yes, father. I have worked to instill the terror of the Black Dragonflight among the citizens of the mountains. I have razed their villages and torched their fields, making the land untillable and uninhabitable. Their complete destruction is near at hand. With a squadron under my command, we could assault the capital, Lakeshire. When the great town hall steeple tumbles, burning into Lake Everstill, Stormwind would never again dare to challenge your dominion--"

    "So you were defeated and I can see, wounded as well." Nefarian interrupted. “Did mighty Stormwind sent an army to stop you?"

    Umbrion faltered, hesitating before answering. "Well...no--"

    "Not an army. A single band of warriors, then?"

    "Yes, father."

    "What was their number?"

    Umbrion hesitated.

    "Answer me! I asked you, what was their number?"

    "Four!" Umbrion blurted. "Well--five, if you count the Gnome."

    Nefarian chuckled darkly, without a hint of humor in his voice. "You were defeated by four warriors and a Gnome? Is that all?"

    Umbrion looked at his mother, his eyes begging for support, but she turned her head away, refusing to make eye contact with him.

    “My agents have kept me well-informed of your forays into King Wryn's lands, Umbrion,” Nefarian said. “Were your petty attacks upon small villages and defenseless farmers supposed to impress me? Strength is what impresses me. Warriors arise to oppose you and you flee with your tail between your legs, then you dare to come sniveling before me, begging me to deliver you from them?"

    Umbrion's expression turned to one of panic. "But--but they were powerful! They had a formidable caster of shadow magic. A Wildhammer archer and a savage Worgen! And an--an Orc Blademaster, as fierce as any of the greatest champions of the Blackrock Clan--"

    "Silence! I am not interested in your excuses. Go back to the red mountains and finish what you started. Have the stomach to fight your own battles or do not bother returning to the Spire. Return victorious, with their heads, and I just may be impressed. As my son, that is your challenge. Now be gone.”

    Umbrion looked at his mother again and began to back hesitantly toward the door.

    "Go!" Nefarian boomed.

    Umbrion whirled and limped out the door as fast as he could wounded and on three legs, nearly tripping over himself in his haste.

    Villiona watched him go and looked at her mate, her reptilian visage etched with sympathy. “Come, dear, must you be so hard on the boy? He is your son after all.”

    Nefarian shifted form back to Victor Nefarious and returned to his work at the alchemy table. “I have many sons. If this one can't manage to grow a backbone, I will not miss him.”

    Villiona glanced at Seetheria. Her sister-consort stared silently at the ground.

 

    Umbrion paced back and forth upon the wide, ruined balcony that jutted out from the western slope of the mountain, into the ash-filled air of the Burning Steppes. Muttering, he passed again and again before the vast Dwarven throne that his father in conquering the mountain years ago, now claimed as his own favorite perch. Umbrion occasionally paused to stare at it longingly, before cursing and starting to mutter again. Even in the dead of night, the sky glowed red from countless lava flows, obscuring the blanket of stars above. Hot wind whipped around Umbrion, only further souring his mood.

    Seetheria appeared in the doorway behind him in her humanoid guise, a dark, violet-skinned Draenei woman draped in an open-sided, sleeveless dress that bared most of her legs. Her hooves clicked across the stone floor as she approached him.

    Umbrion turned to her. "Mother, you can see what they did to me. Anyone would have run! The Stonewatch Orcs won't listen to me. Warlord Gath’ilzogg ignores my authority and scoffs at the terms of our alliance. They laugh at me behind my back! All of them! I have no friends there, no allies to call upon. What was I to do?"

    "Keep your voice down," Seetheria snarled. She looked about. The rumble of the ever erupting crater high above them and the whipping of the wind were the only sounds to be heard. A bolt of lightning struck across the distant, red sky.

    She looked at him. "Is there anyone here with you?"

    "No one, mother."

    "What were you thinking?" she snapped. "A whole squadron at your beck and call, to defeat four mortal warriors? Not even Villiona's first-hatched would dare to request such a thing! If you hope to ever rise to supplant your father as lord of Blackrock Spire, you must never again let him see you weak. With strength and guile, sweep aside those who oppose you. You must be ruthless and decisive. Ambitious yet cunning at all times. Do you realize how much damage that pitiful display of yours may have done to all we've worked to accomplish?"

    "I know, mother. I'm sorry, I--"

    She put up a hand to silence him. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do not despair. This situation may still be salvaged. Your father has given you an opportunity to prove yourself and we will see to it that the result pleases him."

    She slipped a golden ring off of her finger. It bore the symbol of a mountain peak split in two by a bolt of lightning. “Here, take my signet ring. Use it as a symbol of my authority to the Orcs at Stonewatch Keep. With this, they will be beholden to your every command, as if I myself were in their presence. Use them. Use them to crush these errant heroes...and return to your father victorious. Now go rest. Recover your strength, then prepare to leave at first light.”

    “Yes, mother. I will, mother.”

    Seetheria watched her son go with renewed fire in his eyes. She knew that more than anything, he wanted to please her. And she knew this time he would not fail her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback. I love lots of critique!


	2. Chapter 2

Redridge Mountains, early afternoon, two days later:

 

    "Gimbo, we've been camped out on this ridge for goin' on three days," Hilda said. "I don't  think the beast is comin' back."

    She stood with Gimbo at the edge of a high cliff, overlooking Stonewatch Keep in the distance. Through his spyglass, Gimbo watched orcs walking the ramparts, then shifted his view down to the keep's great gates, watching for any new signs of movement inside or out. The Problem Solver's camp lay hidden behind a thick stand of trees nearby.

    Gimbo lowered his spyglass and adjusted his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. He frowned at the high stone walls in consternation. "I guaranteed Magistrate Solomon that I would bring back the head of that dragon, Hilda. I've never had to go back on a Gimbo Tinkertorque guarantee before and I don't intend to start today. Our reputation is at stake here. Also, we have a score to settle and I have a gut feeling that dragons' still close by.”

    Hilda shook her head. "He's dead, Gimbo. Ye shot a Light-damned harpoon through his chest. Let's go back to Lakeshire, collect our pay and be off home."

    Gimbo put his hands on his hips. "More than likely, that dragon's hiding inside the keep somewhere, recovering from his injuries and planning his next sally of destruction."

    Hilda crossed her arms over her chest, scowling and muttered something darkly in Dwarvish.

    Gimbo sighed. "Look...we'll give it just one more day, alright? If there's no sign of the dragon by evening tomorrow, then we'll call it quits. Besides, we can't leave until Rosa gets back from her hunt. Considering how she loves to take her sweet time, that probably won't be till long after nightfall.” He shrugged. “A Worgen's gotta do what a Worgen's gotta do, you know."

    "So,” Hilda said, “if on the morrow, the beast don't show his mug, then it's problem solved. Ye promise?"

    Gimbo nodded his head. "Cross my heart."

 

    In a wooded valley, some eight miles northwest of Stonewatch Keep, Rosa crept along the banks of a small stream on all fours, her nose to the ground. The stag had passed this way less than an hour ago, its scent still hot and fresh. He had been crossing back and forth over this stream in several places, trying to throw her off his trail.

    “Nice try, boyo,” she muttered. “But you're going to have to be smarter than that if you want to keep my jaws off your throat.”

    The anticipation of the kill made her dizzy with excitement, filling her imagination with the sharp taste of blood, the croaks of her dying prey, and the feel of her fangs rending flesh and bone. She was famished and overcome by the passion of the hunt.

    Sitting around camp for the last two days in her normal, repressed human form, she had become restless. Balance and control over the beast were things she had learned through the help of druidic magic and meditation, but no one ever said it would be easy. The previous night had been especially hard. She hadn't gotten any sleep at all while the beast blood pounded hot through her veins and the hungering spirit of Goldrinn demanded to be sated. It put her on edge and she had to get away. Let the Hairy One out for a while.

    She looked east, across the stream where the scent turned, and up a steep hillside. The vegetation grew denser there and she could see where it had been disturbed. She splashed across the stream and bounded up the hill, standing up to sniff the air when she had reached the top. The trail turned south here. She dropped back to all fours and ran down the far side of the hill, following the stag's ever-warming scent across the valley.

    For over an hour, Rosa bounded over rocks and through the underbrush at a feverish pace. She sensed the gap rapidly closing between her and her quarry. The stag was obviously tiring, yet she felt invigorated, the stamina and power of the beast churning ceaselessly inside of her.

    For a Worgen, there was nothing more elemental than the hunt, nothing more primal. As a girl, when she had first been changed, she accepted her “curse” with open arms, her hatred for King Greymane and his cursed wall eventually driving her to pledge her allegiance to the madness of the Wolf Cult. That dark chapter of her life was long over and although the evil she had committed against countless innocents in this bestial form all those years ago still haunted her nightmares, she was convinced that she had been born for this life. This fate. She was Worgen. It was all part of the cosmic order.

    She skidded to a halt and stood up. Her ears moved left and right as she listened, parsing through the ambient sounds of the forest. She could hear panting ahead. She crouched low and crept forward on all fours, one hand then one foot quietly before the other. She slunk down a hillside and circled around a thicket at the base, peering carefully through gaps in the foliage there. She saw movement and stopped. The stag lay inside the thicket, panting with his tongue lolling out, body stiff, ears alert and forward.

    Another scent came wafting to her nostrils on the wind. Rosa turned her head towards it. Something very large was coming straight towards her. She watched as a giant grizzly bear approached through the trees barely teen feet away from where she crouched. It looked at her and let out a rasping roar.

    Behind her, the stag burst from the thicket and fled up a hillside. Rosa didn't chase him. She stood perfectly still, keeping her eyes locked on the bear. With her claws, she knew she could do some damage, but she doubted it would be enough to stop a fully grown bear three times her weight. She had left her armor and her axe back at camp.

    She grinned. “Hey there, teddy...if I run, you won't chase me, will you?”

    The bear stood up on his hind legs and roared again.

    "Bugger. You're not going to be reasonable, are you?” She dashed off at a dead sprint, fleeing in the direction the stag had run. She glanced back and saw the bear chasing after her with long, crashing strides. He covered more ground than she could with each bound and he was already gaining. She fled at full-speed, kicking out soil and leaves behind her each time her feet landed and she propelled herself forward with both legs. Her hands hit the ground in front of her in unison, claws gripping the earth and pulling her forward for another leaping bound.

    As the bear chased her across hills and over rocks, she found herself overtaking and passing the stag, still running a few feet off to her left. "You lucked out, you lily rotter!" she snarled.

    The stag veered sharply away and ran down an incline, heading for a denser area of the woods.

    Rosa glanced behind her again. The Light-damned bear was still gaining on her! She began looking for a tree to climb, a tall, sturdy one with no low-hanging branches thick enough for a bear to climb. She didn't know how long she would be able to keep up this pace as her body was finally tiring from her long hunt.

     A tall poplar loomed before her and she went immediately for it. She leaped onto the trunk and scurried up, quickly reaching the lowest branches and pulling herself into them. She looked down. The bear reared up and put both forelegs around the trunk. It sunk its massive claws into the bark and began pushing with its legs, lifting its great weight up off the ground. Rosa scrambled higher into the tree as the bear reached the lower branches.

    She grabbed a branch above her head and it snapped in her hand. The breaking limb threw off her balance, causing her to lose her footing and slide down the tree trunk. The bark gouged painfully into her skin. She flailed at branches, grabbing one in each hand and stopping her slide.

    The bear swiped at her dangling foot, catching it in its claws. Rosa cursed and yelped as the claws grazed her flesh. She kicked the bear in the head as hard as she could and it slid down the trunk few feet. She grabbed the branches above her head and climbed higher into the thick foliage, ten feet, then twenty feet up. The bear struggled to climb after her.

    As the bear lifted a forepaw to grip a branch, its other fore-paw slipped and it slid all the way down the trunk, thudding back to the ground on its hind legs. The bear returned to all fours and began pacing back and forth in front of the tree. It looked up into the branches after Rosa, chuffing and bellowing.

    Rosa settled herself in the nook between two branches and surveyed her surroundings. Her poplar rose higher than most of the trees around it. From this position, she was able to see out over an extensive area of the forest canopy. She squinted in the sunlight and looked to the north where in the distance, the red mountains gradually merged into the blackened peaks bordering the Burning Steppes region. Something was coming, a winged shape gliding over the peaks. As it soared closer, she quickly ruled out a buzzard, a crane, or a very large bird-shaped kite with bat wings. It was definitely a dragon. She speculated that if it were a kite, it would be quite an impressive one. She loved kites.

    "There you are, supper," she murmured. "Back for more punishment, are you now?"

    The dragon passed high over the valley, flying south. Rosa didn't have to speculate where he was going. She scowled glumly, wondering how she would ever get back to the others in time to join in on the fun. As long as she was treed here, she was helpless, unable to aid her friends when they needed her the most. She looked down at her present unwelcome company, still pacing back and forth and looking back at her.

    She flattened her ears and growled down at it. "Go stuff your noggin in a beehive! Bloody stupid animal."

 

    Gimbo sat alone with his legs hanging over the side of the cliff overlooking Stonewatch, smoking a pipe and stroking his thick mustache. There had been no significant activity within the walls of the keep for hours. No dragon. Nothing.

    He imagined Magistrate Solomon grudgingly tossing a few small gold coins into his waiting hands. “Here is your just reward, Tinkertorque,” Solomon said. “Alas, there is no dragon head stuffed and mounted on my wall. Did I not ask for a dragon head stuffed and mounted on my wall? How very unfortunate. The treasury of Lakeshire could have been yours.”

    Next, Gimbo imagined Nexus Prince Kalil, laughing maniacally over his brain floating in a jar of brine. His wrappings fluttered about his glowing, incorporeal head as he cackled, "Gimbo Tinkertorque, your reputation is ruined! Now your brain is mine!"

    He took a puff on his pipe and kicked a rock loose from the cliff side.

    A great shadow and heavy rush of wind passed over him. Snapping out of his despondency, his mind raced with fear and confusion. He jumped to his feet and stumbled back, his pipe nearly flying out of his mouth. He stared wild-eyed at the sky.

    The dragon soared low over him. Flying onward and descending toward the keep, the dragon tilted his wings back to slow his descent and alighted upon the battlements of the main tower.

    Gimbo grabbed his telescope and focused it on the tower. The dragon was approached by several Blackrock guards. The leader put his hands on his hips and looked up at the dragon as he spoke to him, his expression one of annoyance. The dragon spoke back hurriedly, pointing at the leader, apparently trying to give him orders.

    The other guards looked at each other and laughed. The dragon spoke angrily and thrust his open forefoot towards the leader, palm side up. The leader stared at whatever the dragon had in his forefoot. He looked back at the dragon and quickly bowed, looking apologetic. He hurried away, descending a flight of steps and disappearing from view.

    A few minutes later, a large Orc dressed in heavy armor trudged up the steps accompanied by a young dragon. The dragonling had matured beyond the age of a whelp but was not quite a drake.

    The armored Orc approached the dragon and spoke to him. “Warlord Gath’ilzogg, I presume,” Gimbo muttered. The dragonling, he wasn't sure about. Maybe a gift from the Black Dragonflight to help sweeten their alliance.

    The dragon looked smugly pleased with the warlord’s presence. He began to proclaim a series of orders while gesticulating grandly, which the Gath'ilzogg responded to with nods and an impassive gaze.

    When the dragon finished, the warlord spoke, gave a terse bow, and left. The dragonling stayed put, sitting on its haunches and eyeing his elder with a grim look of disdain. The dragon looked down at the dragonling and his expression softened. He spoke, extending a forefoot towards the dragonling as if in greeting.

    The dragonling recoiled from the gesture and singed the dragon’s forefoot with a puff of flaming breath. The dragon jerked his forefoot away and stared at the dragonling in shock. The dragonling faced him crouched on all fours, snapped off a few petulant words, spread his small wings and flew off after his master.

    The dragon cradled his forefoot, looking embarrassed. An Orc guard standing nearby laughed. Turning on the Orc, the dragon bore his fangs, eyes blazing. The Orc paled, quickly apologized and hurried away across the battlements.

    Gimbo rushed back to camp. He found Mok and Korridan sitting across from each other with a game board set between them while Hilda looked on. Two sets of cards hovered above the surface of the magical board, one on Mok's side and one on Korridan's side.  Mok pushed a card forward with his forefinger onto one of Korridan's cards. The cards exploded against each other, disintegrating Korridan's while Mok's was left standing.

    Korridan frowned. “I find it hard to believe that your Bloodsail Raider could possibly be used to single-handedly defeat my Stormwind Champion.”

    “It’s all in the attack combination, Elf,” Mok said, grinning. “You chose to ignore my equipped weapon, so you allowed me to use their combined power to annihilate your minion.”

    “A champion of Stormwind would never fall to the likes of a simple pirate,” Korridan grumbled. “Even if she were aided by the blessed blade of the Windseeker.”

    Hilda, who had only been half paying attention, looked at up Mok and Korridan quizzically. “Did someone say Thuderfury, blessed blade of the Windseeker?”   

    “That is not how the game works,” Mok said, as if correcting a young child refusing to pay attention in class. “I could defeat your precious champion with a murloc if the combination were right.”

    Korridan looked incensed. “Preposterous!”

    “Do you presume to call me a liar?” Mok growled.

    “I hate to step into your sandbox, kids, but I'm afraid we have bigger problems on our hands now,” Gimbo said, striding into the middle of camp.

    Everyone looked at him.

    He nodded. “The dragon's back and he's enlisted some powerful allies.”

 

    The Problem Solvers stood on the cliff, watching a fully-armed Blackrock war band mustered outside the gates of the keep, thirty to forty orcs strong. The dragon sat upon a high rock before a group of Orcs mounted on dire wolves. He spoke to one of them, a brute with broad shoulders, coal-black skin, and a white skull painted on his face.

    Gimbo focused on the two with his telescope. He watched the dragon relaying instructions to the Orc at length.

    "We need to get that one alone," Gimbo said.

    Mok looked at him. "What?"

    Gimbo handed the telescope to Mok. “Do you see the Orc with the skull-face? The lead scout?"

    Mok peered through the telescope. "I see him."

    "Whatever the dragon's next move is going to be, I suspect that Orc just got wind of it. I'll bet he also knows the war band's plan of attack. We'll need that information to plan our counter move. It'll be hard to get the jump on him without our best tracking nose. Hilda, you'll just have to do the best you can."

    Hilda put her fists on her hips. "Once again, yer praise is heartwarmin', Gimbo. I've been huntin' game since I was a wee lass. I'll have ye know, anythin' Rosa does, I can do better. Just...don't tell 'er I said that.”

    The lead scout saluted the dragon and rallied the other wolf-riders around him. They rode out ahead of the war band as the main body began to move along the road west from the keep.

    The dragon launched himself from his perch and flew high into the sky ahead of the scouts, soaring over Stonewatch Falls and off towards the lake.

    The scouts split into groups, some towards the Lakeridge Highway, some ahead of the main body on the western road, and the rest filtering into the hilly expanse of woods lying between the keep and the ridge where Gimbo and company stood.

    “Ye realize they're scoutin' right for us, don't ye, Gimbo?” Hilda said. “I think we've been standin' here in plain sight long enough.”

    Gimbo quickly nodded. “Er...right. We should probably get off this ridge. Problem-Solvers, pack up camp. Double time!”

 

    The Problem Solvers traveled through the woods, off the backside of the ridge. They retraced their path west, returning to the road to avoid leaving a trail through the woods for the scouts to follow. The Blackrock scouts moved fast, forcing Gimbo to push Dadanga hard to stay ahead of them. He pondered how to lose them. Where would they be least likely to search?

    “Gimbo, look,” Korridan said.

    Gimbo followed where he was pointing and saw a plume of black smoke rising over the treetops less than half a mile off to their left, roughly parallel to their path.

    “Another one,” Hilda said.

    A plume of smoke went up along the road behind them at roughly the same distance as the first.

    “They’re informin’ each other of their positions,” Hilda said, “coordinatin’ their search.”

    Cog’s they were fast! Gimbo pushed Dadanga harder. “Ho, Dadanga! Ho!”

    A few minutes later, a third smoke signal went up far to the, somewhere along the shore of the lake. Gimbo realized that the scouts hadn’t picked up their trail yet. They were apparently still casting a wide net. Encouraged, he drove Dadanga onward, across ridges and through scattered elm woods.

         Dadanga came upon a fork in the road and Gimbo reined him onto the path leading north, towards the Burning Steppes. A path the scouts wouldn't suspect, he hoped. The pass began to become steeper as it climbed higher into the mountains.

    The next smoke signal Gimbo saw was barely visible, far to the southwest. It looked like at least one group had continued traveling far ahead. He was almost ready to feel relief, then another smoke signal went up along the road behind them Still behind them, though they were now some distance behind. Maybe two miles.

It was clear that the scouts had taken the fork north and had most likely picked up the trail. His ploy had failed.

    Gimbo looked at his companions. “We can’t keep running, or they’re going to drive us completely out of Redridge. Let’s find a place to hide Dadanga. We’re going to meet those scouts head on.”

    “Sounds good to me,” Mok said.

    “They’ve got me bow itchin’ for a fight,” Hilda echoed.

    Gimbo settled into his seat and shook the reins. “Well, I’m glad we’re all in agreement.”

    Leaving the main road, Gimbo drove Dadanga up a rocky ridge. Hilda kept a sharp eye out crags or caves, anywhere suitable to hide a two and a half ton beast. Dadanga entered a gorge between two mountain ridges and galloped along a stream cascading down the rocks.

    “There,” Hilda said.

    To the left, there was a cavern along the edge of the stream. The ceiling was low, but it looked like a large enough space to fit Dadanga. Dismounting and taking the reins, Gimbo led him inside. Once inside the damp cavern, his companions dismounted as he secured a feed pouch under Dadanga’s head and filled it with grain and a few bloodpetal sprouts from the special pouch that Rosa kept. Gimbo let the reins fall. Dadanga could be trusted to stay put as long as he had something to keep his big belly occupied.

    Gimbo patted the kodo’s side as he began to munch. “We’ll be back for you, boy.”

 

* * * *

 

    Gimbo and Hilda crouched together on the peak of a ridge overlooking the road and a wooded valley on the far side. No smoke signal had gone up for more than half an hour.

    “They're movin’ cautiously now,” Hilda murmured. “Away from the road. They know we’re out here.” She scanned the trees with an eagle-like vision Gimbo had come to envy. She closed her eyes and began to mumble some words in an old Wildhammer dialect as she seemed to drift into a trance. Gimbo knew she called upon the mysticism of her clan to enhance her vision and perception. He would never claim to understand it, he was just glad she could do it.

    At once, her eyes opened and she stared ahead. Unblinking, they shifted rapidly across the landscape, almost as she were in a dream sleep. They looked pale and glazed over. After a time Gimbo was sure couldn’t be good for the health of her eyes, she squeezed them shut and when they opened again, they had regained their clear, blue hue.

    “There's movement below the trees,” she said. “At least five hundred yards. South-south east.” She turned towards a ridge on the far side of the valley. Cupped her hands to her mouth and began to make a series of warbling bird calls. They sounded almost natural except for a slight, almost imperceptible repeated pattern. They represented the points on a compass. From the crest of the ridge came two brief flashes of light in return. Korridan and Mok.

    “Let’s go,” Hilda said.

    Gimbo and Hilda descended the ridge and traveled along the edge of the valley, on a path roughly parallel to the road, a good two hundred paces out. Somewhere on the other side of the valley, Mok and Korridan moved towards the same location. The idea was whichever group encountered the scouts first would signal and wait for the other group in order to ambush the scouts from two sides.

    The signal for Korridan and Mok would be a ball of light in the sky that Korridan would create. For Hilda and Gimbo, Hilda would fire off an arrow with a red streamer made from a strip of Mok's sash. Mok was not happy with that part, and he would probably be making that fact abundantly clear for weeks to come. After ambushing the scouts, Korridan could probe their minds to find the location of the lead scout.

    Insects swarmed around Gimbo's head in the midday heat. He waved them off as best he could, while resisting mightily the urge to slap the ones that bit him. “Cogs!” he hissed. Tiny, black flies. Horrible little monsters. Feeling sharp pricks around his ankles, he winced and looked down to find burrs gathering in his pant legs. He sighed in resignation.

    Hilda would pause periodically to listen to the wind or feel the ground. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she crouched, hand to the earth, then stood, and continued their trudge through the undergrowth. As time passed, Gimbo began to get anxious. Did the scouts know they were coming? Were they lying in wait just ahead? He wished that Rosa was here with them, her axe at the ready. He could defend himself if it came down to life and death, but he was definitely no fighter. If they were attacked, would Hilda be able hold the line for both of them? She was a formidable archer to be sure, but surrounded by ten or fifteen massive Blackrock warriors, he calculated her (and his) chances of making it out alive at...slim. He had sent Mok with Korridan because he didn't want the priest to be caught out alone. Maybe that was a bad idea. Besides, Korridan had holy shields and fire from the heavens on his side. He could handily hold his own against a Blackrock horde, couldn't he?

    Gimbo didn't realize Hilda had stopped in her tracks until he collided with her. He reeled back and looked up at her with startled eyes. The impact stumbled her forward and she whipped around, glaring at him. "Ow! Away and bile yer head, ye sot!”

    “I'm--I'm sorry!” Gimbo stammered. “I was preoccupied, alright? Do you have to be so mean about it?”

    She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Hush! Keep yer voice down!”

    He shoved her hand off and scowled at her. “All I'm saying is, you didn't have to call me a sot,” he whispered angrily. “You drink more than I do.”

    “Shut up, and listen” Hilda hissed.

    Gimbo listened to the wind snaking its way through the trees as their trunks swayed with it. A finch sang somewhere in the branches high above his head. He stayed silent, then he began to hear gruff voices. He guessed them to be coming from some fifty paces ahead, beyond the trees. Orc voices.

    Hilda crouched and began to move swiftly but silently toward the sound of the voices. Gimbo put the hood of his cloak of shadows up, pulled the cloak about his body and followed after her. Even if he wasn't an expert tracker like Hilda, he had long ago learned how to move quickly and quietly when danger lurked around the next dark corner of a crumbling passage in a Titan ruin or the moss-covered halls of a hexed temple. He made sure to stay comfortably behind Hilda just the same, perfectly happy to let her stay out in front.

    Gimbo and Hilda crept through the brush and up a small hill, reaching a cluster of young pines at the edge of a narrow clearing in the woods. Four orcs mounted on dire wolves stood in the clearing, the skull-faced leader among them.

    What stupid, fantastic luck, Gimbo thought. He had expected to interrogate the others to find the leader's location, not run right into ol' skull-face himself.

    "They've traveled the road north, I'm sure of that,” the leader said to his cohort on his right. “It’s possible they fled through the pass to the Burning Steppes, but I doubt it. They're close. Real close."

    “Let us drive them into the steppes, then,” his cohort said. “Let our northern brethren deal with them. I don't much like being an errand boy for Seetheria's whelp, and I would love to get back to the great hall in time for dinner.”

    "We wait here for the signal from the northern group,” the lead scout said. “I've got a feeling the interlopers are waiting for us to come to them. I'm going to oblige them. I suspect that the northern group will locate them first, then we'll close in on them from two sides. It'll be a cakewalk."

    The other Orc looked away and grunted. “That's a lot riding on a feeling you got. My dinner, not the least of which.”

    The leader patted his wolf on its shaggy neck and tousled its ears. “The scent this way is fresh. The tracks too. Add to that, the footfalls of their beast have fallen silent, which tells me that they've halted their flight. They _are_ waiting for us.”

    “My stomach hopes you're right,” the other Orc grumbled.

    Gimbo's mind raced. A northern group? He hadn't seen any smoke signals from a northern group. Were they close? Were they stalking Hilda and him right this moment? He motioned to Hilda, they moved off of the hill and retreated until they had put around two hundred feet between them and the scouts.

    "What do we do now,” Gimbo said. "We can't signal Mok and Korridan. We'll have both groups coming down on top of us. We can't fight that--not just the two of us."

    "I don't see how we got much choice in the matter," Hilda said. "Come. We'll retreat and signal from a more defensible position. Mok and Korridan can't be far off--" Hilda ended her sentence abruptly and strung an arrow into her bow, pointing it into the trees behind her.

    Gimbo stared at her. "What? What is it?"

    "Someone's comin'," She said.

    Five mounted orcs appeared from among the tree trunks, charging at Gimbo and Hilda. They let out roaring battle cries, jagged, curved swords raised above their heads.

    Gimbo paled in terror. He drew his dagger and vanished under his cloak. He backed up against Hilda. Hilda loosed her arrow and it thudded into an Orc's chest. Bellowing, the Orc tumbled off his mount while the giant wolf continued to charge towards her. The wolf opened its jaws, its lips pulled back from its enormous fangs in a vicious snarl, the intent to tear her to pieces burning in its eyes.

    Thinking quickly, Gimbo dashed into the giant wolf's path and dropped to his knees. As the wolf passed over him, he thrust his dagger upwards with both hands into it's belly. The wolf's momentum carried it forward, Gimbo’s blade carving a gash from its sternum to its pelvis for its entrails to spill out of.

    As the disemboweled wolf fell, Hilda rolled out of the way, then came up to a kneeling position while simultaneously nocking three arrows at once. She released the multi-shot. One arrow hit a wolf in the neck, one hit an Orc in the shoulder, while the third hit a second Orc in the ribs.

    The wolf struck in the neck plowed into the ground head first, throwing its rider forward as its legs went into the air. The Orc shot in the ribs gripped at the shaft with one hand as he slumped sideways, the resulting pull of his grip on the fur of his mount’s neck causing the wolf to veer sharply off course. The Orc fell out of his saddle completely, one foot catching in the stirrup as the wolf continued forward, dragging him along.

    Hilda had nocked another arrow but had no time line up the shot before the Orc struck in the shoulder bore down on her, roaring as he swung his sword for her neck. Hilda dove to the ground and the Orc slashed his sword over thin air. She sprang back to her feet, turned and shot an arrow into the Orc's back as he charged past her. Another Orc was immediately rushing upon her while her back was turned. She was focused on the Orc who had been thrown, lurching to his feet with an apparently injured leg, and on the snarling riderless wolf standing next to him.

    “Hilda, look out!” Gimbo shouted. Hilda turned around just as the Orc slashed his sword across her shoulder. Spun by the force of the blow, Hilda cried out as she was thrown to the ground. The riderless wolf bonded to her and leaped upon her where she lay, pinning her to the ground with its front feet on top of her chest. She threw up her forearms, crossed them and pushed them against the wolf's throat to keep its snapping jaws away from her face and neck. She tossed back and forth with the wolf as she struggled against its powerful strength, spitting and cursing in Dwarvish.

    Cold terror gripped Gimbo as hot adrenaline rushed in his veins. No, no, no! He couldn't let her die! Almost without thinking, he raced to Hilda, leaped on the wolf and stabbed his dagger into its back. Gimbo stabbed furiously until the wolf collapsed across Hilda. He stood up and helped Hilda as she pushed the body off with her legs.

    There were more mounted orcs arriving. Four rode into the fray, among them the skull-faced leader. Hilda was on her feet quickly and stringing another arrow, though with much more difficulty than before. Gimbo looked at her shoulder expecting to see blood flowing, but he could see no sign of an open wound. Only bruised maybe. Possibly fractured. Thankfully, her chain mail must have stopped the worst of the damage.    

    The Orc that had felled her was circling wide for another charge. Hilda turned to face him as the four newcomers followed close on his heels. The Orc that had been thrown from his mount was now fully on his feet and rushing at her from the side. Exhilarated from his recent battle successes, Gimbo decided to face the dismounted Orc head on. He was still invisible under his cloak after all. Here he stood in the face of overwhelming odds, two fresh kills under his belt. A real fighter like Mok and Rosa. With Hilda at his side, they were the unstoppable force!

    Gimbo charged the Orc, his dagger clutched at his side. As he closed upon his target, he squeezed his eyes shut and gathered his mettle to strike. _Light help me!_

    Something grabbing him by his cloak from behind. His hood fell away as his feet lifted off the ground and he was being carried through the air. He was spun around and a white skull-face filled his view. A cold blade came up under his chin.

    “Found you, little rogue.” the lead scout chuckled. “Drop it.”

    He let his dagger fall to the ground and stared down at the blade against his throat, his sudden, foolish burst of confidence shattered. Some fighter he turned out to be.

    The lead scout turned Gimbo around to face Hilda, the blade still at his throat. She had just put an arrow in the dismounted Orc's chest, sending him to the ground. The remaining four scouts split up, flanking her and completely surrounding her.

    “Hold your blades, boys,” the lead scout said. “Seetheria's brat wants the satisfaction of killing her himself.” He looked at Hilda. “You are outnumbered and overwhelmed, Dwarf. Surrender or the Gnome dies.”

    Hilda spat in his direction as she slowly lowered her bow.

    The lead scout motioned behind Hilda with his chin. “Throw it over there.” Hilda tossed her bow aside and clenched her teeth, hatred and humiliation burning in her eyes. Gimbo knew that more than anything, Hilda despised losing.

    He sighed inwardly. Hooray for the stoppable force.

There was a burst of noise in the trees that startled Gimbo. Mok, swords drawn and roaring, charged out of the woods straight for the lead scout. Dropping Gimbo, the lead scout turned his sword horizontally to block.

    Gimbo hit the ground on his backside, landing with a thud. Wincing in pain, he struggled to his hands and knees.

    Mok's swords came down on the scout's sword with a resounding crash of steel. The scout staggered from the force of Mok's momentum, then pushed Mok off with a mighty heave. He then thrust the blade forward and plunged it into Mok's belly.

    Gimbo cried out in despair, "Mok, no!"

    The moment the blade penetrated his body, Mok seemed to disintegrate into a cloud of smoke.

    A smile spread across Gimbo's lips. A mirror image. Of course!

    In the midst of a whirling wind, Mok appeared behind the lead scout and struck him across the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. Slumping forward, the scout slid off his mount and fell to the ground. Mok hacked the wolf's head off with a single swift stroke before the animal could react.

    A pillar of Holy Light enveloped one of the scouts menacing Hilda. The Orc screamed as he burned. Moments later, Korridan appeared at Mok's side.   

    The remaining three scouts moved to face the new enemy. Mok charged ahead of Korridan as the Elf boomed, “SHIELD!” A shell of light enveloped Mok as he engaged with the first scout. The mounted Orc slashed at him from above. Mok parried the strike up and aside with one sword, whirled in a circle and slashed at the scout's belly with the other. The scout blocked Mok's slash in a ringing clash of steel, then raised his sword for a downward strike. Mok crossed his swords as the scout's strike came down, and he caught the scout's blade between the two of his. The scout threw his weight forward, grinding his steel into Mok's.

    Another scout passed Mok and closed with Korridan. Korridan raised his staff and blocked the scout's first sword strike. He ducked the scout's second strike, then brought down the heavy, jeweled head of his staff against the top of the wolf's skull. The blow connected with a resounding crack and the wolf collapsed onto its side, bringing its rider down with it. The scout raised himself on an elbow and struggled to free his leg, pinned underneath his unconscious mount. Korridan slammed the butt of his staff up under the scouts jaw, twisting the Orc's head to the side.

    Two scouts now surrounded Mok as he engaged both of them at once, blocking and parrying blows from both sides alternately. Wind gathered around Mok's body as his movements began to increase in speed. The scouts struggled to keep up with the fury of Mok's countermoves and soon they were on the defensive, concentrating all their energy into defending against Mok's flurried blows.

    A whirlwind now completely enveloped Mok’s body as his blade storm reached its peak. The wolves snarled as their riders reined them away from Mok, fear filling their eyes. It was a move too late. In an instant, Mok’s sword thrust out and skewered a wolf in the gullet. As the beast fell, Mok jerked his blade from its throat and slashed its rider across his chest, splitting him open. An instant later, he turned on the second scout and ran him through his chest, spun his blade with a flourish and beheaded the Orc’s mount.

    Gimbo suddenly noticed the lead scout. To his astonishment, the Orc was conscious and crouched next to one of his cohort's mounts. He struggled to cut through the stirrup from which the body of the wolf's former rider remained hanging by a leg.     

    “Hey, stop him!” Gimbo shouted. “Stop him! He's getting away!”

    The stirrup came free and the lead scout leaped onto his dead cohort's mount. He shouted the wolf into a dead run for the trees. He disappeared into the woods.

    A shape rushed passed Gimbo in his peripheral vision. He looked and it was Hilda, sprinting after the fleeing Orc.

    

    Running a few yards into the woods as her heart beat against her chest, Hilda saw the lead scout had descended a hill and was splashing through a stream bed at the foot of it. She stopped at the crest of the hill, lined up a shot and loosed it. The arrow missed, striking into the ground at the wolf's feet. She cursed her carelessness. Nocking another arrow, she drew back the string and held it there, tracking the scout's movement as she lined up a steady shot. She loosed the arrow and it hit the lead scout below his left shoulder blade. He kept a tight hold on his mount, seemingly unfazed by the hit. He was quickly passing out of Hilda's range.

    Sharpening her focus, Hilda nocked a third arrow and pulled the bowstring back as far as it would go. She closed one eye, keeping in focus only the tip of her arrow and the wolf's galloping form. She aimed for the back of the wolf's head. “I got ye now, bugger,” she murmured. She waited for a clean shot...waited...then released. The arrow flew true, but there was suddenly a cedar tree in the path between her aimed shot and her target. The arrow thudded into the tree's thick bark as the wolf and scout darted passed it, vanishing among the tree trunks beyond.

    Hilda stared in disbelief. Impossible! She missed? By the spirits of the elements, how in the world had she missed?

    Gimbo, Mok, and Korridan ran up to join her at her side. “Did you get him?” Gimbo asked. “Where is he?” Shielding his eyes, he frantically searched the trees ahead.

    Hilda lowered her bow. “Lads, we got a problem,” she said.

 

    "Bears. What a useless waste of skin and fur,” Rosa muttered sullenly as she leaped effortlessly over a gaping crevice. “Freya must have been a bloody lunatic.” She climbed a steep mountainside strewn with broken boulders and dotted with elms and stands of pines, leaping from one boulder to the next on her way out of the valley where she had been treed for the past two hours. The bear had finally slunk off. Stupid animal.

    She eventually reached a high, relatively level stretch of thicker woods and stopped to get her bearings. “Now which way is it to Stonewatch Keep?” she wondered aloud.

    She sniffed at the air, studying every shade and flavor of the scents that she found there. Nothing of note. She swiveled her ears, searching the howling mountain winds for a few moments before breathing out harshly between clenched teeth. "I'm bloody hungry," she growled.

    A scent invaded her nostrils, carried on the wind. It smelled like...battle, the tang of spilled blood and the smoke of burnt flesh. In her famished state, the scent of blood was nothing short of intoxicating. She almost began to salivate at the primal impulses it roused.

    She heard a commotion somewhere in the trees ahead. Four heavy feet. Running. She moved dropped back to all fours and bounded, bounded towards the noise and came upon the edge of a narrow stream bed. She crouched low in cover there and listened to the footfalls approaching, until a lone Blackrock Orc came into view. He rode a jet black dire wolf, galloping along a stream bed towards Rosa's position. "Oi, what's this?" she said. "A lone survivor?"

    He was a big, strong one alright. She studied the Orc's broad shoulders, thick neck, and bare, barrel chest. Her eyes traced his wide, square jawline and the high, angular bridge of his nose. She licked her lips and smiled mischievously. "My. Just where are you off to in such a hurry, gorgeous? Oh the ways I could take a hefty morsel like that wandering all alone and lost in the woods."

    The wolf and its rider dashed past Rosa, following the path of the stream bed deeper into the woods. Rosa sprinted after them, splashing across the stream bed dashing into the trees on the other side. She hastily pushed aside her lewd imagination as her warrior's pragmatism kicked in. “Slow down, old girl, that's the Hairy One trying to get the best of your better judgment,” she scolded. “This ain't the time or place for a steamy forest rendezvous. Capture the enemy for questioning, soldier. Duty before pleasure and all that."

    She sprinted with long, leaping strides on a parallel path with her quarry. Watching them in fleeting glimpses through the tree trunks, she began to overtake the pair, then passed them. She kept running, putting ever more distance between them until she finally came up on a sturdy tree overhanging the path, suitable for the hasty plan forming in her head. She scrambled up the trunk and walked out onto a thick limb running parallel to the stream bed. Hitting the Orc from this angle was not quite ideal, but she didn’t have time to find a better position.

    The wolf and its rider turned a bend in the stream, coming back into Rosa's line of sight. They raced onward, the Orc's eyes focused ahead, unaware of the stalking Worgen in the woods. Rosa crouched in the tree, waiting for him to come closer. Much closer. The Orc's profile was almost directly in front of her when she grabbed hold of her branch with both hands and swung down from it, kicking her legs out as she dropped.

    Her feet slammed into the Orc's shoulder with her entire weight and momentum behind them. Bellowing, the Orc plummeted sideways off of his mount, hit the ground with a thud and crashed through the trees and bushes on the far side of the stream bed. She heard him tumbling downhill a bit, then he was screaming, his voice falling rapidly away.

   Rosa’s mouth dropped open in startled horror. She rushed to the bushes and pushed through them, ran down a rocky slope, and came to an abrupt halt at the edge of a sheer precipice dropping into a deep ravine. She watched the Orc fall howling, at least three hundred feet before his body dashed against the broken red rocks at the bottom. She ran her claws through the fur at the back of her neck and rubbed it as she stared sheepishly over the edge of the cliff. "Rosa, old girl, there's a cliff there."

    She backed away from the cliff through the bushes, her mind still grappling with her accidental act of murder when a twig snapped behind her. Her ears moved back to catch the sound of a deep, low growling. Turning around, she found herself almost face to face with a very angry dire wolf. Growling with his hackles raised and his ears laid back, the wolf began to circle Rosa. She flattened her own ears, and crouched into a battle stance with her claws at the ready, turning with the beast as it circled. “Hello, lunch,” she crooned. “If I can't have fresh, bloody venison today, I wager lean wolf flank will make do capitally.”

    The giant wolf's growls rose into a furious snarl and it leaped at her. She caught its forelegs in her hands as it collided with her, and planting a foot in its belly, she dropped onto her back and used its momentum to send it sailing over her head. The wolf crashed to the ground on its back, where it scrambled furiously to get back on its feet.

    It managed to pull its forelegs underneath it, but before it could fully rise, Rosa leaped upon it, slamming it back to the ground. She jammed her right knee into the wolf's upturned gut and pushed her weight forward with her left leg to keep the wolf pinned to the ground. She repeatedly slashed its face, neck, and chest with her dagger-claws, opening long, red gashes across its flesh. The wolf struggled and snarled beneath her, kicking her repeatedly in the groin with its hind feet while pushing against her breast with its forepaws, snarling and snapping its fangs wildly at her arms and face.

    As Rosa landed a blow across its muzzle, it caught her arm in its massive jaws and clamped down with crushing force. Rosa screamed in pain. Pure, burning rage boiled up inside her at the animal’s audacity. Her human rationality rapidly slipped away somewhere to the back of her consciousness as something dark and feral took over. It was a vestige of the Mindless State, a prowling beast that still haunted her deepest nightmares, yet only a shadow of the beast that had once held total domination over her mind and body. It was a rage that she had long ago learned to channel and bend to her will.

    Seizing upon her rage, she drove her claws repeatedly into the wolf's side with her free hand. Her claws sank deep and ripped back out, sending blood splattering across her muzzle. She felt the wolf’s jaw loosening. Her arm came free and she immediately drove both hands up under its rib cage. She held them there, dodged a snap of the wolf’s jaws at her face, then ripped them out.

    Grabbing one flailing foreleg, she shoved her other hand under the wolf’s chin, snapping its head back. She clamped her jaws over its exposed throat, sank her fangs into its jugular and tasted warm blood. She bit down harder until she felts its windpipe collapse, then released her jaws and pulled away. The wolf struggled weakly as she watched, suffocating, blood squirting from its ruptured jugular until its once strong heart stopped beating.

    Panting heavily, Rosa stood up and looked down at the corpse lying still at her feet. In between pants, a jagged grin spread across her face. She stamped on the wolf's throat and ground her foot hard into the wound as blood oozed out from under her canine foot pads. She lifted her hands and looked down at them, watching the wolf's blood dripping from her claws and running down her arms. Her heart surging with bestial glee, she threw her head back to the sky and let out a long, throaty howl that echoed off distant ridges and mountain peaks.

    Coming down from her victory rush, she slowly knelt to the ground and panted as her heart continued to hammer. She rested until her bestial emotions subsided and her rational mind gradually resurfaced from the shadows. She shook as she chuckled, then laughed out loud.   

    Springing to her feet, she put her hands behind her head, gyrated her hips, then spun in a circle. She threw her arms out and began to shuffle her feet in rhythmic patterns across the ground, dancing in circles around the wolf's corpse. She continued to dance, spinning, swinging her arms back and forth, and kicking out her feet.

    She ended with one palm to the sky and one hand on her hip, grinning at her new audience. Hilda, Gimbo and the others stood in a group, staring at her. "Oi, chums!" she said, continuing to hold her pose.

    "We heard dancing," Hilda said dryly. "Did ye kill someone?"

    Rosa nodded. “Yes indeed.”  Her muzzle and ears shrank, silky hair falling onto her shoulders as her fur receded into copper skin. “How the devil did you all end up out here?"

    "The dragon's' returned to Stonewatch Keep, Rosa,” Hilda said. “The beast recruited the help of Warlord Gath'ilzogg, then the warlord's mingin’ scouts tracked us down and ambushed us. We trounced 'em but the leader escaped. We came this way to hunt the bastard down and that's when we heard ye howlin'."

    Gimbo pushed passed Hilda and thrust himself before Rosa, his face flushed and his eyes full of urgency. “Rosa, the lead scout--that wolf under you was his mount! Where did he go? Did you fight him? Is he alive?”

    Rosa was silent for a moment, then looked at Gimbo. “Oh, the Orc. Did you...need him?”

    Gimbo thrust his fists onto his hips. “Yes we need him! He knows what the dragon's next move is and probably how to locate him. That monster could be torching more villages as we speak. Worse, there's a Blackrock war party coming after us and that scout knows their position and strength as well as the positions of the other scouting parties. Without him, we're totally in the dark.”   

    Rosa rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “Then I've been a very bad dog, I'm afraid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback. I love lots of critique!


	3. Chapter 3

     The Problems Solvers stood together, looking over the cliff at the lead scout’s broken body on the red rocks far below. Rosa looked at Gimbo as she twisted a black lock of hair around one finger. Pursing her red lips, she looked over the cliff and back to Gimbo. “Gimbo, darling?” she said. “Love, are you angry with me? You've been mum for quite a long while now.”

    Gimbo rolled his shoulders and sighed deeply. “No, Rosa, I'm not angry with you,” he said quietly. “We're just dead, that's all. A massive war party is hunting us down, we have no idea where the dragon has gone, and my brain is going to be floating in a jar before this month is out.”

    Rosa chuckled nervously. “Oh, it can't be as bad as all that now, can it?”

    Without answering her, Gimbo marched away from the cliff's edge. He approached the dire wolf, adjusted his spectacles and circled the corpse, looking it over from all sides. He found two saddle bags, tore them open and began to rummage through their contents. “There's got to be something here!” he said. “A missive detailing orders. Maps, plans...something!” He continued digging until his hand touched something ice-cold. Frowning, he closed his hand around it and lifted a full glass of milk out of the saddle bag. He cocked an eyebrow as he squinted at it. “What in the--how is this even…” He shook his head and tossed it aside.

    Finding nothing of relevance in the saddle bags after turning them in inside out, he threw them on the ground and stood up. He walked around behind the corpse where he spotted the scout’s bedroll poking out from under the Wolf’s left flank. He called behind him. “Mok, help me move this brute."

    Mok joined him and together, they lifted the corpse and flipped it over. The bedroll fell free along with a bundle of five black cylinders tied with rope. The cylinders were about two feet long each and four inches in diameter. Gimbo studied them closely. He'd seen something like this before. They were smoke signals, likely potassium perchlorate, anthracene, and sulfur stored in a canister, designed to create thick black smoke when ignited Probably goblin made. He shook his head in disgust. Goblins. They'd sell their own grandmothers to the worst scum of the earth if it meant a tidy profit.

    He tossed aside the smoke signals, opened the bedroll and searched through it. Maybe there was some coded message or secret plans hidden there. Again frustrated at finding nothing, he dropped the bedroll and stood scratching his head. _ Hopeless _ , he thought.

    Looking at the bundle of smoke signals again, he noticed that one was a different color from the others. White. Stooping down, he used his dagger to cut the rope and picked up the white cylinder. It gave off a garlic-like smell that he immediately recognized. White phosphorus. He stroked his mustache thoughtfully for a few moments, then realization dawned on him. This was it. This was the answer to their conundrum!

    Gimbo hurried towards the others, calling out to them. "Friends! My dear associates, not all is lost!" They turned and looked at him curiously as he approached with the white cylinder. "This smoke signal is going to save our mission! It uses white phosphorus. White phosphorus is normally used to create thick white smoke as a screen for concealment, or...for signaling _ aircraft. _ " He looked at them expectantly, smiling.

    “Your point, Gnome?” Mok said

    “Are ye expectin' to call in help from the air?” Hilda said. “Where, pray tell, do ye think we're goin't' find air support in the middle o' the Redridge Mountains? We're over six hundred miles away from Ironforge. Five hundred miles from any o' my people.”

    Gimbo put his fists on his hips and narrowed his eyes her.

    “I believe I understand what he's implying,” Korridan said. He looked at Gimbo. “You plan to signal not an aircraft, but a dragon. Is that correct?”

    Gimbo brightened and pointed at Korridan. “Yes! Exactly! So far, the scouts have used only black smoke to signal one another. Since we haven't seen that dragon for hours, I think it's more than safe to assume that he's waiting somewhere for a signal, and that the scouts were reserving the white smoke to call for him once they had captured or killed us. Ladies and gentlemen, we have the means to make the dragon come to us. All we need to do now is find a suitable place to set an ingenious trap for him."

    Hilda crossed her arms over her chest. “Sounds a wee bit far-fetched to me. You don't know what ye'd be callin' with that signal. Could be the entire war band."

    "I believe that Gimbo is correct," Korridan said. "After all, we didn't find any white signals on the other scout's bodies. Therefore, it's logical to believe that the lead scout reserved this white smoke to signal the dragon. Also, we don't have many other options at this point."

    Gimbo put his hand over his stomach, his expression hardening. "I've got a gut feeling about this, Hilda. Say whatever else you want about me, when have my gut feelings ever been wrong?"

    Hilda looked up, pondering for a moment. "Well...not _ often _ ."

    "Far be it from us to argue with your intestines," Mok grumbled.

    Gimbo walked past him. "Come on. We haven't got any time to lose. I’ve already got an idea on how to trap him too. First, we need a body...well, two bodies actually. A scout and a wolf, then paint the Orc's face with a white skull. I'll need you to work your mind control magic for that part, Korridan. That body down...there is to damaged. Hilda, you have ice traps, right?"

    Hilda moved to follow him. “I lost most of me vials of permafrost when Dadanga went runnin' wild the other day, but I think I've three of four of them left.”

    Gimbo clapped his hands together. “Stupendous. We'll use them with the three spring traps we managed to salvage after Dadanga came back. Observe once again my great genius, my friends. I'm going to show you how to outsmart a dragon.”

    “I believe in you, Gimbo,” Rosa quipped. “Lead on, love!”

    Hilda rolled her eyes.

 

    Returning along with the bodies Gimbo had prescribed to the spot where they had hidden Dadanga, Gimbo, with the help of Mok's sword-carpentry, fashioned a travois to pull behind Dadanga and strapped the bodies to it.

    Having left the northern reaches of Redridge, the group traveled along a mostly dirt road forty miles southwest of Stonewatch Keep as it descended into an area of sparsely wooded foothills just north of Lake Everstill. Gimbo planned to find a place suitably open to set up his trap, preferably somewhere along the shores of the lake. The sun was waning and it would be dusk in a few hours.

    Through the foothills, they traveled until they reached the crest of a small ridge, overlooking an open tract of farmland. Gimbo pulled Dadanga to halt at the terrible and unexpected sight he found there.

    Before the Problem Solvers lay destruction, the charred remains of farmer's fields and ruined cottages. A handful of people moved about the fields, picking through what remained of their livelihood. A sawmill seemed to be the only building left standing, though it was also burned.

    “Gimbo, we have to stop here,” Korridan said. "These people require our aid."

    “Korridan, we can't," Gimbo said. "The war band might be right behind us. We need to reach the lake.” But Korridan was already hurrying down the ridge towards the fields.

    Gimbo stared after him in consternation. He shook the reins, urging Dadanga forward. "Korridan wait!"

    A man working in an unburned patch of wheat with a small hand scythe, looked up at Korridan's approach. His face paled as his eyes flew wide. "Hor--Horde. Horde! Horde attacking!" He stood up and stumbled backwards in his haste to retreat. A woman screamed and two other men nearby drew swords, rushing forward to block Korridan's path.

    The woman ran towards the cottages. "The Horde are attacking!” she cried. “To arms, to arms! It's a Horde attack!"

    Gimbo's mind was frantic. "Wait!" he cried. "WAIT!" He tried to scramble off Dadanga but his feet couldn't reach the ground. He lost his grip, falling off Dadanga and tumbling into the dust at the kodo's feet. The men stopped and stared at him in confusion.

    Gimbo scrambled to his feet, breathless, reaching out towards the men. "Wait, we're not Horde! We--we're not Horde, we're neutral!"

    Korridan held his staff out with his arms spread wide. "I mean you no harm! I am Korridan Lore, a priest of the Light. We come to render aid."

    The men remained steady with their swords held out before them. They looked quickly between Korridan and Gimbo, to Mok, then to Hilda, and Rosa. The sight of a Dwarf and another human seemed to calm them somewhat as their swords slowly began to lower.

    Six more armed men approached, carrying swords, spears, and farm implements. "Beasts! You'll not take what's left of us without a fight!" a man shouted.

    "We mean you no harm," Korridan repeated. "We come to render aid."

    Another man stepped in front of the others. "Wait! Halt, men!" he said. He was a tall man, with red hair and thin sideburns. Gimbo had joined Korridan and the man cautiously approached, stopping a few feet away from them. He studied them for a few seconds, then spoke again, "Who are you? What do you want with us? Speak quickly."

    Gimbo straightened his spectacles, which had become lopsided across his face. "Yes. Yes, of course. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself and my associates. My name is Gimbo Tinkertorque. You've met Korridan." He motioned behind him. "That is Mok, formerly of the Bleeding Hollow Clan, Hilda Ironfeather, of Thundermar, and Lady Rosa Carter of Gilneas, fifth Baroness of Eastmoor. We're the Problem Solvers. Perhaps you've heard of us?"

    The man shook his head. "No. Um...my name is William Alther the Third. This is the...well, this _ was _ the hamlet of Alther's Mill.” He motioned to a large building with a collapsed roof. “That's the mill behind me. It's been in my family for generations." He looked out over the broken cottages and blackened fields, sadness in his eyes. He turned back to Gimbo. "What brings Problem Solvers to a dragon-torched hamlet in the middle of the mountains?"

    "Ah, you don't know how lucky you are, Mr. Alther," Gimbo said, beaming. “Saving villages like yours are exactly why we're here. We've been hired by Magistrate Solomon in Lakeshire to hunt down the black dragon that's been terrorizing Redridge.”

    Alther's eyes widened. "Truly?" He looked back over the hamlet again. "Not lucky enough, apparently. If only you had come sooner. There's nothing left here save."

    Gimbo's smile faded, realizing the mistake of his words. "Oh...I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me, Mr Alther. Of course we are very sorry for the loss of your homes."

    Alther nodded.

    Korridan stepped forward and spoke up. "Mr. Alther, do you have sick or wounded?”

    Alther scratched his head for a moment as he studied Korridan. He looked at his nervous men behind him and back at Korridan. "Well...Stevens fell and broke his arm during the attack. Some of the men have severe burns. And I believe little Anna has come down with a fever. Yes...yes, forgive our hesitation. We are not accustomed to outsiders here in the mountain villages. Of course we appreciate your help, priest. Anything you can do."

    "Take me to them," Korridan said.

    “Korridan, we don't have time,” Gimbo cut in. “We need to get moving. If we stay here, we could end up leading the war band right to them.”

    Alther stared at him. “War band? What war band?”

    “The dragon has sent a Blackrock war band to hunt us down. We don't know exactly where they are at this point, but we've already been ambushed by their scouts. I have a plan to lure the dragon into a trap before they find us, but we're searching for a suitable place to spring it.”

    “We are not in immediate danger and these people have immediate need of our help,” Korridan said. He started off towards the cottages.

    “Korridan, stop,” Gimbo said. “Listen to me. I'm your boss and I order you to come back.” Korridan joined Mr. Alther and strode ahead without looking back. Gimbo pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Oh...come on.” With Rosa's help, he climbed back up on Dadanga, settled himself and shook the reins. “Ho, Dadanga.”

    Korridan walked into an area of small tents set up in the middle of the former town square. Among the surrounding cottages, several had canvas stretched across the broken eaves of the caved-in roofs. A woman emerging from one of the cottages stopped and stared at Korridan as he passed, alongside Alther. 

    A man sitting in front of a tent with his forearm bound up in a splint and resting in a sling, looked up at Korridan's approach. He drew back. "Blood Elf!" he gasped.

    "Stevens, don't worry," Alther said quickly. "This man and his companions are here to help."

    Following behind Korridan, Gimbo reigned Dadanga to a halt at the edge of the square. He and the others dismounted. The surrounding townsfolk were murmuring amongst themselves, casting fearful glances at Mok as he stood next to Dadanga, surveying the cottages with his arms crossed over his chest. Many of the armed men looked ready to draw their swords on him at the slightest possible provocation.

    Feeling the weight of the tension, Gimbo pondered how to ease the situation. "Come with me, Mok," he said. "I need to take a look around this area. I may...need your help."

    The northern elves had at least once been friends to humans for centuries, but to the average human, any Orc would always be considered a mortal enemy. Perhaps it would be beneficial to make Mok scarce for the time being.

    As Gimbo and Mok left the square, Korridan laid his staff aside and knelt down next to Stevens. Stevens winced as Korridan removed the sling and cradled the man's forearm in his hand. He placed his other hand on top of it. A glow formed around Korridan's hand, followed by a flash of light across Stevens's arm. He unwrapped the splint and let Stevens's arm fall to his side.

    Stevens flexed his arm at the elbow and moved it back and forth. He looked up at Korridan in wonder. "Thank you," he said.

    "May the blessings of the Light be upon you." Korridan said.

    Alther spoke to the woman standing in the doorway of the cottage, tall and ruddy-faced with a bonnet covering her red hair pulled into a bun. "Mrs. Brand, please take us to Anna." The woman blinked at Korridan for a moment, then nodded to Alther.

    Korridan and Alther entered the cottage and followed Mrs. Brand to a bed where a blonde-haired girl of about seven years lay on her back, coughing and shivering. Her delicate skin was unnaturally pale, obscuring the freckles that dotted her thin arms. 

   Mrs. Brand picked up the girl's hand and spoke to her. “Anna, sweetheart, there is a priest here to see you. He has come to help you, Anna. Do you understand?”

    Anna nodded and Korridan knelt next to her bed. He smiled at her. “Peace to you, child,” he said. “My name is Korridan.” He placed a hand gently on her forehead to check her body temperature. Anna looked up at him in wonderment, eyes fixated on his long, pointed ears and glowing eyes. A smile spread across her face. “You're...you're a High Elf! Oh...daddy always told me stories about the great and noble Elfs far in the north. I always wanted to see one! Am I...am I dreaming?” She tried to rise on her elbows, but her face scrunched up in pain and a fit of coughing overtook her, forcing her back to the sheets.

    “Please, Anna, try to lie still.” Mrs Brand pleaded. “Save your strength.”

    Her coughing subsided but her breathing remained shallow and labored. “Yes...mother.” she said.

    “I was once a High Elf, child,” Korridan said. “I am a Blood Elf now. I have taken this title in honor of all my brethren lost during the last great war.”

    Anna looked confused. “A Blood Elf? But...you don't l-look like...a bad guy. Are you really a Horde?”

    “I hold no allegiance to the Horde of Garrosh Hellscream, child. I serve only the Holy Light.” He paused and then spoke again. “Anna, listen to me carefully. You must never judge the nobility of any man or woman by his or her race, title, or creed alone. You must remember that there is nobility among all races and men and women of every allegiance. The Light searches the hearts of all and favors those whose hearts are true and good. Always look for the good in all those whose ways seem alien to you and let the Light judge the heart.”

    “Mrs. Brand,” he said, “please bring me warm water. Your daughter needs fluids.”

    Mrs Brand went to a pot handing over a fire in the fireplace, dipped a tin cup inside and brought the steaming water over to Korridan. He lifted Anna's head gently and put the cups to her lips. “Drink.”

    Anna sipped down the water until the cup was empty. “The...the stories my daddy told me,” she said. “He told me about King Anasterian Sunstrider and the great Troll Wars. The Elf's gift of magic to the people of the old empire. About the great silvery-moon city, the magical Sunwell, and--and Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, the proud ranger-general! Oh I always love to hear the stories about her! Have you ever got to meet her in the silvery-moon city? What was she like?”

    Korridan's countenance grew pensive and his eyes hardened. Dark memories of the tragic downfall of his homeland fourteen years ago filled his mind, the wounds opened afresh as if it had all happened just yesterday. He recalled the once proud ranger-general laid low, possessed, dominated and turned to darkness. He recalled the scattering of his brethren and their heartbreaking descent into faithlessness, abusing the Naaru, M'uru in their corrupt quest for renewed power.

    Why had the Light so abandoned his people those years ago in their greatest hour of need? He had asked this question during the darkest hours of many a long night, wrestled with it and cried out to the Light in anguish for an answer. It had almost destroyed his faith, but he had refused to follow in the footsteps of his brethren. He had left Qhel'Thalas and found solace at Light's Hope Chapel, in quiet contemplation as a disciple of the Argent Dawn. He took strength in the one thing he knew to be true--the Light gives and the Light takes. The Light is wise in all things.

    “No, child.” he said. “I never had the honor of meeting such a noble and courageous woman. She was a never-faltering champion of her people, even to the last.”

    Korridan looked at Anna's mother. “Mrs. Brand, what other symptoms has your daughter been experiencing and when did these start?”

    The woman thought for a moment. “She has complained of pain in her chest, especially when she coughs. Her spit-up has been very dark-colored. Her chills have been quite severe. This all started two days ago. A day after the dragon attacked.”

    "This is worse than a mere fever,” Korridan said. “This is pneumonia. I will attempt to purify the infection from her lungs." He placed both hands on her chest and closed his eyes. His hands glowed and the light penetrated her body, causing her skin to luminesce under his hands. “The infection is deep. This will take a few moments.”

    Korridan concentrated as the light brightened. Anna's chills began to subside and her breathing became more normal. There was a final, swirling dance of light that rose from Anna's body and dissipated in the air. Korridan removed his hands and stood up. “The infection is gone but it will take a few days for her to fully recover. Make sure she rests and drinks plenty of water.”

    “Thank you, priest,” Mrs. Brand said, her face radiant. “I am in your debt.”

    Anna rose to a sitting position with no sign of pain troubled breathing. She took Korridan by the hand. “Thank you. I won’t forget you, Mr. Korridan.”

    He smiled at her. “Peace be with you, Anna. And may the Holy Light ever illuminate your path.”    

    On Korridan's way out the door, Gimbo met him on the stoop. He looked agitated. “Korridan,” he said, “we need to get all these people evacuated as soon as possible! Mok and I have found a place just beyond the edge of the village to set up our trap. We've waited around here for way too long and I'm afraid the war band or more scouts could be right on our doorstep by now.”

    “I must tend to the burn victims,” Korridan said firmly.

    Gimbo spread his arms in entreaty. “Well, can you do it on the fly? We need to get everyone moving right this minute!”

    Korridan looked out over the tents in the square and was silent for a moment. He looked at Gimbo. “I believe I can manage that.”

    Gimbo motioned for him to follow as he hurried ahead of him. “Then come on!”

 

    The two-dozen townsfolk of Alther's Mill stood gathered in the square with their children, packs of supplies and any personal belongings that they managed to salvage from the ruined cottages. Gimbo watched Korridan as the Elf stood before them.

    He held his arms out wide, closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Light, I lift up a prayer of mending for these people gathered here. I ask for your power upon them, to restore their recent disfigurations, ease their pains, and fortify their bodies against sickness.”  

    A glowing aura surrounded the townsfolk. The damaged skin of several of the burn victims scattered among them began to be gradually restored, the reddened and blackened swaths fading along with some of the worst of the scarring. The healing effect seemed to jump from one person to the next, continuing after Korridan hand lowered his hands and working its way among the people.

    Gimbo watched Korridan's work with amazement. He'd rarely met anyone this gifted in the Light. He always knew recruiting this man back in Ratchet those four years ago had been a smart move on his part. The Problem Solvers growing fame and reputation was certainly secure with him on their side.

    Korridan spoke to the people. “I also place upon you a ward of the Light. It will strengthen your bodies during your flight and steel your hearts against any danger you may face. Now you must all hurry away from here. Travel the road west and take refuge in Lakeshire.”

    Alther stepped forward and came to shake Korridan's hand. “Thank you, priest,” he said. “I can't begin to express our debt of gratitude for all you've done for us here.”

    Korridan nodded. “Go with the Light, William Alther. Lead your people to safety.” 

    As the townsfolk streamed out of Alther's Mill, Gimbo turned to his companions and clapped his hands together. “Alright, Problem Solvers, to the plan!”

    “Ye haven't told us what it is yet,” Hilda said. “Except that it involves dead bodies, white smoke, and freezing traps.”

    “Oh, you'll love it. Trust me.”  

 

    Umbrion soared high on the winds above the mountain peaks. He scanned the peaks and valleys below with a practiced eye, watching impatiently for the signal that the lead scout Ugzot had promised him. Once the errant heroes were hunted down, he expected to see the white smoke. Afterwards, he would lead the war band to wipe them out.

    That was the original plan it didn't sit right with him now. He recalled his mother's words: “You must be ruthless and decisive. Ambitious yet cunning at all times.”

    Ahead, he saw something about half a mile in the distance, rising from a tract of farmland he had attacked before. Yes, it was the white smoke at last! He watched the war band traveling along the road below him. They had surely seen the signal as well, as their pace had increased to a fast march.  

    Umbrion began to soar ahead of the war band. He must be ruthless and decisive. He would reach his enemy far ahead of the Orcs and face them himself. They had defeated him once, yes, but only because he was not prepared. This time he would be cunning like a snake. It was time to prove to everyone that he was more than just his mother's favored son. His mother's plan to use the Orcs was a denial of his true potential, a ploy to save face and coddle him to the throne of Blackrock Spire. He should never have agreed to it. What kind of lord would he be then? A puppet of his mother? A coward hiding behind advisers, war generals, and peons who claim to carry out his will far from his sight while seeking only their own glory? A lord like that is quickly usurped himself.

    No. His father was right. He would fight his own battles and return victorious. It was his destiny to carry on his father's dark experiments to a level the aging dragon never dreamed possible, to lead the Black Dragonflight to domination over the other, lesser Dragonflights. His destiny, to rise above and become greater than Deathwing's own son! It is what his mother really wanted anyway. Not a puppet, but a true successor to the throne of Blackrock Spire.  Above all, he wanted to exceed his mother's expectations, to be the lord she wanted him to be.

    Umbrion approached the white smoke where it billowed up above the trees at the edge of a burned out village. He circled the area, searching Ugzot and his scouts. Strangely, there didn't seem to be anyone down there. He saw no movement at all except for the smoke. “Damn you, Ugzot, where are you,” he growled. “Did you and your men decide to take a nap in the trees on the very hour of the enemy's destruction? Fools!” Orcs, ever lazy and stupid. The heroes may have knifed them in their sleep by now!

    He circled again, lower this time, peering through the trees and searching the ground. Under the shadow of the trees a few feet to the left of the smoke signal, he saw a mounted Orc standing there, face painted white. Ugzot. Umbrion descended, angled his wings to break, and landed on all fours in front of the Orc. “Report, Ugzot,” he demanded. “You have located my quarry, have you not?”

    Ugzot and his wolf stood strangely motionless, his face obscured by the shade. The wolf wasn't even panting in this hot afternoon hour. “I'm sorry, my lord,” Ugzot said. “I didn't quite understand your question. Will you step closer so I can hear you better?”

    “Do you have cotton stuffed in your ears, Orc,” Umbrion said, his voice rising in anger. “I asked if you have found the interlopers. Those accursed heroes who defy the will of Blackrock Spire.”

    “I'm sorry,” Ugzot repeated. “There was...a bomb. The Gnome had bombs. One went off very close to my head and my ears are still ringing.”

    Umbrion took two steps closer to him. “Bombs? You did battle with them? Where are they now?”

    Ugzot nodded his head stiffly, almost mechanically. “Yes, pitched battle. They fought valiantly but their puny gnomish bombs were no match for superior orcish strength and courage. The Gnome looked very funny when he tried to flee in terror. His legs were so short that we caught him easily. He flailed the little stumps at me when I picked him up by the scruff of his neck, but they barely even reached my chin. His squealed loudly. It was very shrill and nasally--ouch! Do you have a death wish, Gnome?”

    Umbrion narrowed his eyes at him. “What did you say?”

    Ugzot shrugged cleared his throat. “I was...simply saying that the Gnome must have had a death wish...he and his companions, daring to defy you so boldly. Rest assured they have suffered the consequences of their arrogance.”

    Umbrion's eyes flared. “What did you do with them, Ugzot? I told you that I wanted them alive! I promise you, if you have killed even one of them I will make you suffer dearly!”

    “I'm sorry, my lord, but could you step just a bit closer? The Gnome's...flash bombs blinded me and I can barely see you over there.”

    Umbrion raised an eyebrow. “Flash bombs?”

    Ugzot nodded. “Yes, they used flash bombs to blind us and deafen our ears. Coward's weapons, highly typical of the gnomes who lack the courage or sufficient...stature to face a true warrior in close combat. In the end, the effort availed them nothing.” He raised a fist, giving a triumphant gesture. “As I said before, we defeated and captured them easily.”

    Something about Ugzot was very strange. His movements were stiff and completely unnatural. His voice didn't seem to quite match his body language and coming from somewhere...behind him. His wolf hadn't moved at all, never even blinking. Ubrion wasn't sure the animal was even _ breathing _ . “Ugzot,” he said slowly, “where are the rest of your men? Where are you holding the interlopers?”

    "Just come a little closer and I will tell you everything.”

    He jabbed a claw at him and then pointed it at the ground in front of him. “You step out of those shadows and come to _ me. _ I want to get a better look at you. You seem...unwell.”

    “I can't. I must insist that you come over here.”

    “I will come _ over there _ only to shatter every bone in your miserable body if you do not obey me and come here immediately!”

    “I'd like to see you come over here and try it, you feckless snake.”

    Umbrion's voice sunk low and dangerous. “What. Did you say?”

    “I said why don't you come over here and try to crush me, you motherless lizard?”

    Umbrion's mouth flapped silently in shock at first, then he clenched his fangs and rose to his full height as his throat glowed white hot. “Impudent Orc, you have just sentenced yourself to death!”

    He drew in a great breath and unleashed a roaring torrent of fire upon the Orc. Ugzot and his mount fell to the ground, consumed in flames. Neither Ugzot nor the wolf made any sound, or even struggled in agony. They simply burned in silence. Umbrion stared at the burning bodies. What in Deathwing's name?" Before he could think better of it, he took two steps forward to examine the bodies.

    Something clamped down on his forelegs with crushing weight. His eyes went wide as shooting pain gripped his legs at the contact point. Immediately afterwards, he felt a blast of freezing cold. A thick layer of ice traveled rapidly up his legs, encasing them completely all the way up to his shoulders. Umbrion drew in a great, ragged breath from the cold shock that rocked his body.

    When he had caught his breath again, he struggled and pulled against the ice's hold. When his efforts failed to make even a crack in it, he drew in another breath and bathed the ice in fire. His fire burned much weaker than normal, dulled by the chill that seemed to run through his very bones. He heaved and tried again. The ice barely melted, leaving a glassy sheen on the surface.

    Five shapes rose from under piles of fallen leaves before him. One whom he immediately recognized as the Elf priest, held out his hand, which lit up brilliantly. A blast of light smote him in the chest and he roared. Multiple blasts smote his body in more places than he could count, tearing away scales and searing his flesh as the Elf's hand lit up again and again. Finally, a pillar of light fell from the sky, striking him with such force that he was knocked to the ground.

    As Umbrion lay there panting, he could smell his own flesh burning. “Aw, I almost feel sorry for you,” came a wry, Gilnean voice. “That is, if you weren't a savage murderer of innocents.” The Worgen woman chuckled mirthlessly. “Looks like I’ll be having my dragon steak after all.”

    “Superb reanimation, Korridan,” he heard the gnome say. “If I didn’t know you were manipulating nerve impulses with your mind control, I’d mistake you for a necromancer of the Scourge. And of course an excellent voice performance from you, Mok. But come on...was all the Gnome-bashing really necessary?”

    “Yes,” answered the voice he had thought was Ugzot's, only now recognizing the blademaster who the voice belonged to.

    “Just hurry up and get his head,” the Gnome said. “We have to get out of here on the double.”

    Umbrion raised his head to see the wooden-sandaled blademaster step in front of him. “Dragon, I offer you once again a clean, quick death if you don't struggle,” he said. He raised a sword high above his head with both hands. There was a whistling through the air and the blademaster suddenly turned his sword to deflect an arrow. He drew both swords and used them to deflect more arrows as a rain of them thudded into the ground around his feet.

    His companions fled towards the trees. The Worgen and the Gnome took cover behind boulders while the Elf priest threw himself to the ground behind the tree trunks. The blademaster soon joined the priest and threw himself to the ground next to him. Umbrion searched for the Wildhammer archer but found her nowhere in sight. Arrows continued raining down on his enemies, striking against the boulders and thudding into the tree trunks and the ground all around them.

    The volleys stopped and Umbrion looked up to see twenty or more Blackrock warriors armed with swords and shields, approaching in ranks. They were flanked by several mounted scouts and a rank of archers. Umbrion pulled himself to his feet despite the pain of his wounds and resumed wrenching against the ice entrapping his forelegs. He felt the heat of his fire rekindled within him as the shock of the sudden freezing waned. He blasted the ice anew with his fiery breath and began to melt it away.

 

    Gimbo huddled next to Rosa with his back against the boulders, panting, his eyes wide. “Rosa, where did they come from? They caught us totally by surprise!”

    “I don't know,” she said, “but I’m quite sure they followed that bloody smoke signal to find us here. I wouldn't go blaming yourself, love. We know Mok and Hilda will be very happy to do that later.”

    The two leading rank of Blackrocks broke into a charge towards the tree line. Korridan rose to his feet behind a tree to Gimbo's right. Shadows swirled around his outstretched hand and a dark, twisting beam struck several orcs at once. Some dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, roaring and grabbing their heads as tendrils of shadow seared their minds. The stronger among them kept coming despite the shadows lashing about their skulls.

    Korridan shouted “PAIN!” then “PAIN!” again and two orcs fell screaming. The twisting beam faded from his hand and he raised both together. “One day every knee will bow to the Light,” he shouted. “Suffer its lashes for your lack of penance! Multiple bolts of light issued from his hands in quick succession, striking orcs across the entire leading rank.

    The archers knelt in their tracks and released a concentrated volley, forcing Korridan to duck back into cover as the arrows rained.

    Mok burst from his position and launched into the air on a whirlwind. He landed in the middle of the Blackrock ranks, releasing a resounding shock wave upon impact that felled every Orc in a ten foot radius around him. He slew many on the ground and others advancing upon him with his storming blades.

    Thanks to Korridan and Mok's combined efforts, the entire leading rank lay decimated--its number dead, wounded, or dying--but the second rank came rushing forward immediately behind them.

    Rosa charged, howling into battle next to Mok. "Come bring your faces to my axe," she snarled. She swung her axe, cleaving it into a Blackrock warrior's chest before he could raise his shield, wrenching it out and beheading another almost immediately afterwards.

    The archers released another volley. “BARRIER,” Korridan boomed. A wall of light materialized in front of Mok and Rosa and the arrows either glanced off or shattered upon it.

    Setting his jaw, Gimbo decided that he couldn't sit back here simply watching. He vanished under his cloak and run up behind Rosa with his dagger drawn. She saw the glint of the sun upon his blade and glanced down at him. He looked up, smiling back at her. “Don't worry. I got your back, I think.” In truth, he had no idea what he was going to do here. A dagger was no match for seasoned warriors with swords and shields.

    “You shouldn't be up here, Gimbo, love,” Rosa said. “Knifing scouts is one thing--this is a bloody army!” She struck through the barrier and cut down a roaring Orc.

    Gimbo felt a pang of embarrassment at her words and he was surprised at how they cut him. “Hey...I can fight,” he said.

    Swords struck the barrier in front of Rosa and Mok and it flickered, weakening. Gimbo knew even a barrier of Holy Light could only take a limited amount of force against it before collapsing. Suddenly, he began to wonder about the wisdom of being where he was...then he thought of Hilda. He looked around. Where was Hilda?

     The next moment, two arrows flew past his peripheral vision. Looking quickly, he saw them strike a mounted Orc and his wolf simultaneously. There was a burst of magical energy at the impact sights as the wolf and rider fell together. Gimbo recognized it immediately as the work of a chimera arrow, a double shaft designed to split in two in flight, the twin arrowheads tipped with a magical poison. That had to be Hilda, but where had it come from? Gimbo looked for the source and spotted the leading edge of a bow with an arrow nocked in the string sticking out from underneath the dragon! What by Magni's great beard was she doing there?

    She loosed more chimera shots, peppering the orcs on their flank. The warriors at first seemed confused, but then six or seven took notice of her, breaking ranks to charge her position. The dragon didn't seem to have noticed of her yet as he repeatedly breathed fire upon the ice entrapping his legs. He had almost completely thawed it by now. Where she was, at least Hilda was safe from enemy arrows. The Blackrock archers wouldn't dare risk hitting their master.

    Mok charged through Korridan's barrier to intercept the orcs going after Hilda. Korridan shouted a shield onto Rosa moments before the barrier fell and she clashed with the Blackrocks once again.

    Korridan smote the orcs engaged with Rosa with blasts of light and called down two pillars of fire upon their lines, before turning to his attention to the archers. He cast the twisting beam upon them, his eyes glowing with an intensity of shadow magic Gimbo had rarely seen. Mind-searing tendrils lashed at over half their rank, throwing the archers in to panic and disarray.

    An Orc charged at Rosa on her left flank. Gimbo dashed into his path, waited for the Orc to come and thrust his dagger into his belly. The impact with the Orc threw him off his feet and he fell and rolled to the side. The Orc stopped in his tracks and collapsed onto his knees, dropping his sword and shield on the ground as he clutched both hands against his gut. Gimbo scrambled to his feet and stabbed him again in the chest. Pulling the dagger out, he stepped back and watched the Orc fall the ground on his face.

    He grinned and chuckled. “Gimbo Tinkertorque! Sly as a fox!” The heavy beating of wings pounded in his ears and his smile vanished stared at Umbrion rising off the ground. The ice was completely melted but his forefeet were still clamped inside the spring traps. Landing again, he reached down with his jaws and tried to pry the traps open.

    Gimbo breathed a sigh of relief. “You're not getting them open that way, dragon. They're shut with perma-locks. My own design.” The traps were staked far into the ground by four long ropes each. He highly doubted that the dragon could pull them out.

    The dragon heaved mightily with his wings, and roared out in pain as the teeth gouged into his legs. Gimbo shook his head. “I'll bet that hurts.”

    One of the stakes securing the spring trap clamped to the dragon's left leg began to rattle. Heaving ever more, the dragon pulled, then yanked and the stake came flying out of the ground in a spray of sandy soil. The dragon heaved again and a second stake came out.

    Gimbo stared in horror. “Oh no!”

    All at once the trap clamped to his left leg came loose completely from the ground. With his foreleg, the dragon began digging at the stakes securing the trap on his right leg. He quickly dug three out, but when his efforts failed on the fourth, he simply began yanking again. The final stake came flying out wildly from the ground, whipping around towards Hilda.

    “Hilda, look out!” The words were barely out of Gimbo's mouth, when the wooden stake slammed her across the chest, throwing her off her feet. She fell and tumbled into the ropes from the other trap. She lay there clutching her chest with her mouth wide open, then she began pulling in great, ragged gasps of air. Her legs tangled amidst the coiled ropes, she rose to her hands and knees and was struggling to stand when the dragon lurched into the air. A coil jerked tight around her left leg and she flipped upside down as she was rapidly pulled airborne.

    “Hilda!” Gimbo shouted. “Korridan, do something! Stop that dragon!”

    Korridan shouted, “PAIN!”, and darkness swirled around Umbrion's head.

    Umbrion roared in agony but the pain didn't stop him. Rising higher, he turned north and began to flee, dragging Hilda along behind him.

    Hilda screamed curses at the dragon in Dwarvish, craned her neck to look down at Gimbo and gnashed her teeth at him. “Gimbo, this was the worst plan in ever-lovin' history! Yer damn smoke brought 'em down on our heads! It was yer damn white smoke! I'm going to kill ye when I get down from here, do ye hear me, Gimbo? Yer a dead Gnome!”

    Rosa glanced up, her face etched with horror as she watched her dear friend dragged away, but she had no time to ponder her fate as she and Mok engaged in close, chaotic combat against advancing ranks of orcs. Korridan continued casting his twisting beam into the midst of them, but it did little to stop their onslaught. Mok was bleeding in several places, including from a gash across his chest and he and Rosa were both losing ground to the orcs.

    Gimbo's felt his mouth going dry as he watched Hilda being carried off to fate unknown with no escape in sight. “Mok, Rosa, Korridan, we have to retreat,” he shouted. “We have to follow that dragon!”

    Korridan shouted, “BARRIER” and the wall of light reformed. “Run, everyone run!” Gimbo frantically cried. “Back to Dadanga! Now!”

    Mok and Rosa didn't need any extra incentive. They broke from combat immediately and followed Gimbo and Korridan back through the trees. Gimbo glanced back to see orcs flanking around Korridan's barrier and racing after them. Arrows whistled frighteningly close passed Gimbo's head. He heard Mok cry out and looked his way. An arrow had hit him in the shoulder! Moments later, he felt someone grabbing him and lifting him up.

    Having stowed her axe, Rosa lifted Gimbo onto her shoulders and the whole group made double time. “Short legs, love,” Rosa said, looking up at him.

    Gimbo sighed. “I know, I know. Enough with the snarky commentary. And...thanks.”

    “Don't mention it, love.”

    In a few yards, Gimbo and his companions burst from the trees and raced for the Dadanga, munching happily on grass at the base of a ridge. Gimbo looked back again and could see orcs close behind them. An archer stopped and lined up a carefully aimed shot. Gimbo yelped and ducked as the Orc released the arrow. He heard it whistle over his head and felt his hair tousled by its passing. “Faster, Rosa! Faster!” he yelled.

    Dadanga lifted his knobby head in alarm to stare at them coming.

    Gimbo searched the sky northward to try to spot the dragon. In the distance, Umbrion flew towards the blackened ridges of the Burning Steppes visible above Redridge's, ocher slopes in the distance. He could barely make out the shape of the ropes trailing out behind him and Hilda still hanging from one of them. He couldn't tell much about her condition accept that she had righted herself and was hanging onto her rope with both arms. She seemed to be struggling with her bow in one hand. He could only imagine what was going through her head, the terror of her situation. One thing was certain in his mind--the dragon was headed for Blackrock Spire. The very heart of darkness.

    Rosa and Gimbo reached Dadanga first. She practically tossed him into the saddle, then leaped up behind him. Korridan and Mok followed closely behind. Mok used his wind to launch himself onto Dadanga. Korridan stowed his staff and reached towards Mok.

    Mok grabbed his hands and pulled him up onto Dadanga as if he weighed nothing. Korridan settled himself. “Sorry. I'm sure you wanted to continue working on your elfish figure,” Mok grunted.

    “I believe I have put in enough beauty exercise for one day,” Korridan said. “Let me mend your wounds.” He put his hands over the gash across Mok's chest and his arrow wound. A flash of light issued from them.

    “Ho, Dadanga!” Gimbo cried. He pulled the reins to direct Dadanga up the ridge behind him. Dadanga galloped up the rocks, his massive muscles rippling as he found footholds and climbed like a Dun Morogh mountain ram. His sure-footedness belying his size never ceased to amaze Gimbo.

    Dadanga ran across the crest of the ridge as orcs clambered up in pursuit. Being mountain orcs, they moved quickly in their element, racing up the rocks with great dexterity and speed.

    Gimbo pushed Dadanga onward, but ahead he noticed the rocks had fallen away in a massive landslide, leaving a gaping chasm stretching across the length of the ridge. “Oh, cogs!” Gimbo cried.

    “Keep steady ahead,” Korridan said. “Do not slow.”

    Gimbo looked back at him. “Are you crazy? Dadanga can't jump that!”

    “The Light will carry us.”

    “Korridan, I'm all for faith and belief, but it's going to take a heaping load of divine intervention to make the jump over that chasm.”

    “Trust me, Gimbo.”

    Gimbo shook the reins hard. “Ho, Dadanga! Ho!” Sure, the Light had gotten the Problem Solvers out of a scrape more than once, but for this leap he was keen to give divine intervention as much corporeal help as possible. The edge of the chasm came up fast and as it got wider in his view, Gimbo got an increasingly better idea of how crazy this was. There was no turning back now as Dadanga neared the edge. “Jump, Dadanga! Please jump, for the love of the Light!” he cried. He closed his eyes tight just as Dadanga's front feet left the ground.

    “You only live once!” Rosa whooped, laughing aloud.

_ AND THEN YOU DIE! _ Gimbo's mind screamed.

    Gimbo waited for the sudden plummet. When it didn't come, he opened his eyes. Dadanga floated across the chasm on a sheen of light, his feet glistening. Korridan had his arms spread out, power swirling in his hands. They were levitating. Of course! _Korridan, you dog,_ he thought. Dadanga landed on the other side and Korridan dropped his arms.

    Rosa let out a loud whoop.

    Gimbo shook his head and began chuckling in elation. Behind them, the orcs stopped at the edge of the chasm and watched the Problem Solvers, menace and hatred in their eyes.

    As Gimbo's smile faded, he turned his eyes north towards the blackened steppes and higher, to the massive, haze-shrouded peak of Blackrock Mountain. They may be safe for the time being, but the relief of their escape was tinged with dark dread for Gimbo. He hoped the Light was with Hilda because she was going to need more divine intervention than a Goblin riding a rocket through the crystal halls of The Exodar. Otherwise, his life--all their lives would be significantly emptier without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback. I love lots of critique!


	4. Chapter 4

Sixty miles west of Chiselgrip, two nights later:

 

    Gimbo, Rosa, Mok, and Korridan sat gloomily around a brightly glowing pile of the cores of slain fire elementals as the stars twinkled across the dome of the deep red, smoke-filled sky above them. Their bedrolls lay spread out nearby.

    Having stripped off her armor down to her cuisses and greaves, Rosa poked at the cores silently with a stick. Her hair was matted and slick with sweat, loose strands clinging like wet seaweed to her cheeks and forehead. Korridan had long ago stowed his outer robe on Dadanga and sat apart from the others, his eyes closed in meditation. Mok perched next to Gimbo cross-legged, staring straight ahead. Gimbo had taken off his cloak and silk shirt, rolled up his pants legs and sat pumping his sweat-stained undershirt with one hand to keep the air flowing underneath.

    They had been traveling all day except for a brief sojourn at Chiselgrip for rest and supplies, passing a couple of hours in the company of un-talkative Mithril Order Dwarves and their stone-faced, mechanical sentries. Even Rosa, who normally could charm anyone, gave up on the Dwarves after a few minutes of futile flirting and one-sided small talk. After that, Rosa and Korridan had entertained themselves bouncing stones off the heads of the motionless sentries.

    For his part, Gimbo had spent most of the downtime at the edge of the settlement, facing North and looking out over the sprawling, half-buried ruins of old Thaurissan. He watched the dust rolling through long-empty streets and whipping around massive, crumbling edifices, carrying along echoes of distant memory and tragic history. It was damned depressing, even for an explorer. This whole wasteland was nothing but a mass grave for forgotten civilizations.

    Since leaving Chiselgrip, Gimbo hadn't seen another living soul across these flat, volcanic plains for dozens of miles. That is, unless you counted the pack of ember worgs growling and slinking around just beyond the dim light of the elemental cores. Mok and Rosa had taught these dogs a lesson once already, but they sounded like they were gunning for another fight despite the bodies of their pack-mates already strewn across the cracked ground out there in the darkness.   

    He hoped desperately that the worgs wouldn't decide to attack in force again. It was the last thing any of his band wanted to deal with right now. They were all exhausted, they reeked of smoke and sulfur, and he was sure they had breathed in enough cinders to cake their lungs solid with filth.

    As Gimbo listened to the worgs growling nearby and others howling mournfully in the distance, he absentmindedly entertained fears of being dragged off to their dens in his sleep.

    He pulled his knees up closer to his chest and stared into the glowing cores. Everything had gone so wrong again. He had planned to make the dragon pay for humiliating him, but he had ended up making an even worse mess of everything. Now Hilda could die because of his arrogance and stupidity.

    “So how do we get in, Gnome?” Mok said.

    Gimbo slowly looked at him, not quite comprehending. “Huh?”

    “The mountain. You say we go in to rescue Hilda. How? Just walk in under the portcullis and introduce ourselves?”

    Dark bags hung under Gimbo's eyes. He sighed wearily. “Do we have to talk about this now? It's another full day's journey to Blackrock Mountain tomorrow. Let's cross that bridge then.”

    “Or perhaps never.”

    Gimbo felt his temperature rising. “There you go. There's the right attitude. You'll go far with that one.”

    Mok turned to face him. "You have no idea how, do you? You were going to run in with some half-cocked scheme and hope for the best. Maybe send a smoke signal? That’s a good idea."

    "Hey! I didn't see you coming up with some grand plan back there. It was our only option at the time."

    Mok snorted. "If Hilda were here, she would agree with me."

    "I've said a hundred times I'm sorry for what happened to Hilda," Gimbo grumbled.

    Mok just scoffed.  

    Gimbo had reached the limits of his patience and his face flushed in rage. “What's that noise supposed to mean? Listen, you! I am sick and tired of your constant abuse! What have I ever done to you? It's not my fault your slimeball brother accused you of treason and got your green ass kicked out of the Horde. Are you still taking that out on me? GET OVER IT!”

    Mok stood up and marched up to him while Gimbo stood to meet him. “Do you want my flying fist to be the last thing you ever see?” Mok growled, pounding his clenched fingers into his open palm.

    Gimbo's eyes flashed. “How dare you! Why don't you try some gratitude, huh? I made you! I brought you out of that forgotten dive bar in Booty Bay, gave you a job, and took you along with me on a hundred amazing and profitable adventures. You deserved to drown in your sorrows in that bar and I should have left you there. You owe me!”

    Towering over him, Mok looked down at him, his eyes wild as he ground his massive jaw and flared his nostrils.

    Gimbo looked him straight in the eyes, his chest puffed out, his chin set forward and his fists clenched at his sides.

    “Please, boys,” Rosa said, her voice sad. “You know how much I hate to see the two of you fighting. Mok, you know you would never really hit him. Both of you just sit down and try to cool off a mo.”

    “How can I cool off in this thrice-damned heat, woman?” Mok snapped.

    Now Rosa's hackles began to rise--so to speak, as she was still in human form. “Woman? _ Woman _ ? I'll show you 'woman' if you really want me to, boyo. Unfortunately for you, I promise it won't be in the randy way you know I'm _ oh so _ good at.”

    “ENOUGH!” Korridan boomed. Gimbo, Mok, and Rosa stared at him. “The Light does not look kindly upon companions who would turn upon one another in times of dire fortunes. This should be a time of meditation and self-reflection, seeking the guidance of the Light so that we may not fall under the sway of evil in these dark days..." His voice trailed off and he sat studying the cracked, dry ground at his feet.

    Rosa moved next to him and put a gentle hand on his arm. "Something's been nagging you for the last two days. You've barely said a word since Redridge. What's the matter, love?"

    "I drank too zealously of the power of the shadow in our last battle," he said. "A priest of the path of discipline can turn the power of evil against itself but he must be vigilant lest he falls to the temptations of the darkness. I have always been proficient with the shadow. It carried me through the time after the Sunwell when my faith faltered, serving my craving for magic and preventing me from resorting to the exploitation of Mu'ru. But I swore never to let it dominate over my reverence for the Light. I struggle to keep that promise still."

    Gimbo and Mok looked at each other and slowly sat back down. Gimbo didn't consider things settled between them but Korridan had a point. “You were great back there, Korridan," he offered. "We were outnumbered and overwhelmed and you did what you had to help your comrades. I think the Light would approve."

    "Perhaps, but I--" Korridan began.

    In the glow of cores, Gimbo saw a growling, red worg moving up behind Mok. He gasped. “Mok, behind you!” he cried.

    The worg pounced on Mok, its weight driving him to the ground. Korridan jumped to his feet. “Light-damned curs! They're more tenacious than the Scourge!” Light flashed from his hand and he smote the worg. It fell away from Mok, yelping. Worgs began stalking in from all directions, snarling and slavering. Mok scrambled to his feet, cursing as he drew his swords. He lifted his swords to strike the nearest worg down.

    A deep voice came wailing out of the darkness. "NOOOOO! NO KILL!"

    The worg looked towards the voice. It's tail went between its legs and it whimpered as it started backing away from Mok. Mok stood frozen in place, staring into the darkness.

    A large, fat body came flying towards the worg. It was an ogre! Mok stumbled back from the worg as the ogre fell belly-first on top of it, flattening the poor animal beneath his body. The worg made a pitiful, muffled noise. The ogre picked himself up off the worg, stood and dusted off his loincloth. He faced the rest of the pack, threw up his fat arms and shouted. "BOO!"

    The pack scattered, yelping and running into each other in their haste to get away. The one that the ogre had belly-flopped struggled to its feet. It wasn't dead but Gimbo was sure it was very broken somewhere. The worg limped off after its pack-mates and the pack dispersed into the darkness.

    Mok stood with his swords ready to do battle with the hulking visitor.

    Rosa looked up at him from where she sat, grinning like a hyena. "Hello there and welcome to our motley camp,” she said. “What's your name, big fellow?"

    "Name is Lunk,” the ogre said. He pointed beyond the core-light. “Why you kill all the red puppies out there? Why you kill?” The look on his face was one of genuine distress.

    “Perhaps we killed them because they were trying tear us limb from limb,” Mok growled. “Why do you think, ogre?”

    “There is better way than to kill!” Lunk cried. “Always better way. Lunk just showded you!"

    “He may have a point, Mok,” Rosa said with a shrug. “Some might consider an ogre belly-flop worse than death.”

    Loud clapping burst out from somewhere behind the ogre. “Ha, ha, ha! Lunk, yer a riot!” a voice said. A Dwarf walked into the core-light next to the ogre as he continued clapping wildly, howling with laughter. A shaggy, yellow beard framed his chin and he was mostly bald with a mop of hair at the back pulled into a ponytail. He wore a suit of light plate armor and carried an ogre skull tied to staff, stuck in a back belt loop. Oddly, he carried a large shield on his back, but was otherwise unarmed. “That was _ the _ single best thing I've ever seen in my life!” he crowed. “Ker- _ splat _ ! WOO! What do ye say, Winky?”

    Gimbo stepped forward and stood alongside Mok with his fists on his hips. “Excuse me, sir...but who might you be?”

    The Dwarf thrust his thumb towards his chest. “The name's Oralius, formerly of Morgan's Militia. I used to be crazy about killin' Dark Iron Dwarves and Firegut ogres. But Lunk here taught me a better way. Nonviolence, YUP!” He suddenly grabbed and slapped at the air. “No one asked you, Winky!”

    Mok looked at him with a creased brow. “Are you...alright, Dwarf?”

    “Yup! Tip-top right as rain, soldier! How are you?”

    Mok's frown deepened.

    Oralius put an open hand next to his mouth and leaned to the left. “Such poor souls, Winky,” he whispered. “They're all insane too, aren't they?”

    Gimbo raised an eyebrow, smiling uneasily as he searched the air next to where Oralius had whispered. “Uh...well, we're grateful to find friendly company out here, but I have to ask...where in the world did you two come from? What are you doing out in the middle of this lava-scorched wilderness in the dead of night?”

    “I could ask you the same thing! But instead I'll answer your question first.” Oralius narrowed his eyes at Gimbo and pointed at him. “You owe me one for this, mister.” His face brightened again. “Anyhoooo...Lunk, Gor'tesh, Captain Winky and I were out catching flameflies along the ridges back behind here when we heard the worgs snarling over this way and we came running to see what was up. Good thing we did too, because it looks like Lunk's colossal belly got here just in time to save you all from a horrible death.”

    “I had the battle well under control,” Mok scoffed.

    Oralius chuckled and looked up dreamily at the sky. “We've already been on so many adventures together, the four of us. Riding down lava flows on burning logs, digging for shiny things in the ruins and sitting on Thaurissan Flamewalkers to see if we can make them fart fire!”

    “We epic, no-kill adventuring team,” Lunk said, beaming merrily. “Fun, huh?”

    “Yup, I used to serve in Morgan's Militia, fighting to take back these old lands from the Dark Irons and Blackrocks. Lunk came from the Searing Gorge over across the Mountain and showed up at Morgan's Vigil about a week ago speakin' this new, enlightened, no-killin' philosophy. It didn't take me long to see the light. I thought, heck, I'm tired of killing Dwarves and ogres. So I tossed my sword and deserted! You should have seen the look on 'ol Morgan's face when I told her I was up an’ leaving. It was a hoot! They tried to chase me down and bring me back for a drumhead court-martial, but I rode on top of Lunk's shoulders and we were too fast for 'em. We've all been best pals ever since.”

    Lunk nodded. “Oralius learn a lot about real adventuring, dancing, sitting, spider riding, and not killing. Lunk so proud to be his teacher. Lunk can teach Orc too if he love to learn as much as Lunk and Oralius do.”

    Mok just glared at him.

    “But enough about us!” Oralius said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

'Winky's dying to hear _ your _ story!”

    Gimbo gave an awkward grin, still trying to puzzle out who or _ where _ this “Winky” person was. Finally, he shook his head and cleared his throat. “Fair enough, friend. Allow me to introduce myself and my associates.” He forced a showman's grin onto his chapped lips. “We're the Problem Solvers. Maybe you've heard of us. My name is Gimbo Tinkertorque, retired explorer, founder and leader of this private enterprise operation. The Orc is Mok, of Razor Hill, former blademaster of--”

    Oralius let out a long, booming yawn and smacked his lips loudly.

    Gimbo frowned at him. “Excuse you.” He cleared his throat and continued, “Former blademaster of the Bleeding Hollow Clan.” He indicated towards Korridan. “This is Korridan Lore of Tranquillin, a priest of the Holy Light and Heiro--”   
    “Enough with all the bells and whistles!” Oralius blurted. “Just tell me your names. I don't have all night!”

    Gimbo put his fists on hips in irritation. “That's what I was trying to do before you interrupted me. As I was saying, Korridan Lore of Tranquillin--”

    Korridan walked past Gimbo and extended his hand towards Oralius. Gimbo reached after him as she passed. “But--but I wasn't finished.”

    “I am Korridan Lore,” he said. “May the blessing of the Light be upon you, Mr. Oralius. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

    “Hierophant of the Argent Dawn,” Gimbo finished.

    Oralius accepted Korridan's hand and shook it heartily. “Likewise!”

    Rosa approached him and shook his hand as well. “Lady Rosa Carter. It's a pleasure, Oralius.”

    “Ah, you're a member of the nobility, are you? How grand!”

    “Fifth Baroness of Eastmoor,” Gimbo added. “Soldier and former guerrilla fighter in Lord Darius Crowley's rebel army.”

    Oralius gently lifted Rosa's hand to his lips and kissed the top. “The pleasure is all mine. It's not every day you meet a woman of fine breeding and pedigree in the middle of a burning wasteland, Lady Carter.”

    He looked to his left. “Winky, you dog! For shame!” He looked back at Rosa and smiled sheepishly. “You'll have to forgive him, milady. Winky isn't usually this forward with women we've only just met. It must have been that bawdy campfire dancing earlier that got him going. Did I mention Lunk can really cut a mean rug? You wouldn't know it just by lookin' at 'em.”

    Rosa smiled slyly. “Does he now? Maybe he and Winky could teach me some of that campfire dancing.”

    “I'm sure they can't wait.” He turned his head and winked at the air. “Now the two and a quarter million-gold piece question is, what brings you four to the Burning Steppes? Did you come to catch flameflys too?”

    Mok became somber and returned to his seat by the cores as a dark shadow fell over his face.

    Rosa looked at the ground and sighed wistfully.

    “Uh-oh, Lunk saw'd look like that before,” Lunk said with a slow nod. “Look of hard times and lost friends.”

    “Yes, we did lose someone,” Rosa said. She looked at Gimbo.

    Gimbo ran a hand down his face and breathed out slowly. “I suppose it should fall to me to tell the sad tale.” He looked at Oralius. “It's our comrade, Hilda Ironfeather. We were hunting a black dragon in the Redridge Mountains. We set a trap for the dragon, but it failed. Hilda's leg became tangled in the ropes securing the traps and the dragon carried her off to Blackrock Spire. We're on our way into the mountain to rescue her.”

    “If she's even still alive,” Mok said.

    “Mok, don't you think like that,” Rosa said, flashing him a glare. “Hilda is alive. I've known the old girl much longer than you have. She could hold her own against ten dragons worse than that oaf, Umbrion.”

    Oralius was silent for a few moments, stroking his beard. “So...ye need to find a way into the Upper Spire, do ye? Impenetrable. Orc and dragon infested. Heavily guarded at every entrance. That is…except for one.”

    Gimbo stared at him, his hope soaring. “What? You know a secret way into Upper Blackrock Spire?”

    Oralius shook his head. “Nope. Not at all. Who told you that?”

    Gimbo was taken aback. “Huh? But I thought you just said there’s an unguarded entrance.”

    “Of course there is. I just said so didn't I? I don’t know exactly where it is, but I'm told the passage starts somewhere in the heart of Shadowforge City. Needless to say, I can't lead you there, but I can take you to the guy who _ can _ lead you there. His name is Ragged John. You can find him in the Grim Guzzler most days, nowadays. He's an agreeable, generous Dwarf for the most part but he'll want something special in return for showing you his super-secret passage.”

    “Please tell me you're joking,” Gimbo said. “As if facing dragons and Blackrocks wasn’t bad enough, you're telling me we have to delve into the Dark Iron capital itself? Those Dwarves despise outsiders.”

    Oralius crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s your only way up, bucko. Secret passage or bust, as they say.”

    “We have little gold to offer your friend for his trouble,” Korridan said.

    Oralius broke into peals of uproarious laughter. “Oh no, no! Ragged John doesn't want gold! He desperately wants Mother's Milk. Not _ his _ mother's milk, mind you, but the milk of Mother Smoulderweb--the great spider of the spire. Mother's Milk is what the Blackrocks call her venom. It's an extremely deadly poison, but it can also be distilled and made into a fine, artisan ale with only a slight chance of killing you. Ragged John brews this ale by the boatload, but his supplies of Milk have been runnin' scarce as of late.”

    “I see. So how may we get this Mother's Milk?”

    “You can't. Mother Smoulderweb's dead.”

    Mok sprang to his feet. “I grow tired of your word games, Dwarf!” he snarled. “Tell us what we need and how to find it.”

    Oralius put up his hands. “Whoa, settle down, soldier! I'm gettin' to that.”

    “You should probably get to it, love,” Rosa said. She glanced at Mok and looked back to Oralius, nodding adamantly.

    Oralius nodded back. “Right.” He elbowed the air behind him. “Shut up, Winky,” he hissed, then cleared his throat. “Yes...well, Mother Smoulderweb is dead, but her broodlings have since left the mountain and now they’re scattered out all over the Steppes. Mostly in the caves. The broodlings’ venom should be just as potent as their mother's, so to make the ale, John will need us to collect the milk while it's still live and potent. Just hackin’ off a spider’s head and tearin’ out the gland won't do at all.”

    Lunk nodded sagely. “No need to kill, see?”

    Oralius continued. “It’s simple really. All we need to do is find a pack of Smoulderweb spiders, one of ye gets bitten…” He looked at Rosa. “Then we milk it out of ye." He rubbed his hands together and grinned.

    Seemingly half-consciously, Rosa crossed an arm protectively over her chest.

    The Dwarf burst out laughing. "Oh no, don't worry. It doesn't come out _ that _ way!" He looked to the side. "Yes, Winky, I know you'd like to see that."

    She checked herself and lowered her arm. "Er...right-o." Oralius kept grinning at her and she frowned back at him. "Wait, you want me to do it?”

    “Hold it right there,” Gimbo said. “Are you seriously suggesting we get Rosa bitten by a deadly venomous spider just to get its venom? That’s insane!”

    Oralius looked unfazed. “Is that a trick question? Why not her? She’s a natural candidate!” He turned back to her. “As a Worgen, that means ye’re more resistant against venoms and poisons, right?"

    “Not...necessarily,” Rosa said.

    “But ye are immune to undeath, right?"

    "Well, yes. The Plague of Undeath is useless against Worgen."

    He waved a dismissive hand and rolled his eyes as if batting away the concerns of a friend obsessed with minor distinctions. "Poisons, venom, the Plague--it's all practically the same thing! You'll do right fine and fancy!"

    Rosa crossed her arms over her chest. "Wow. That's a stretch."

    “It’s also out of the question!” Gimbo cut in, stamping his foot. “I will not put one of my associates at that kind of risk for some crazy Dwarf’s spider venom ale experiment. Korridan, are you hearing this? Is it just me or does this sound like a load of murloc spit?”

    “Perhaps it may not be a stretch,” Korridan said matter-of-factly. Everyone looked at him. “I believe that I can mix an inoculation to help protect her from the venom’s damaging effects while allowing it to remain live in her bloodstream. Oralius does make a valid observation. Rosa, as a Worgen, your beast blood may not make you immune, but it certainly makes your body more resilient than any of ours."

    Rosa thought for a moment and eyed Oralius. “This John fellow, are you sure there is no other way to persuade him to help us?”

    “Positive. All he’s moaned about for a month is his silent stills and his dry gullet. Mother’s Milk is the only thing that’s going to make him happy at this point, trust me. Even Winky will tell you that.”

    “Then I’ll do it. For Hilda.”

    Gimbo gaped at her before he could speak. “Rosa, no! You’re not serious.”

    “I don’t believe I would joke about something like this, love.”

    “I couldn't ask you to do this.”

    She looked at him intently. “But you won't stop me, will you?”

    He stared at her in surprise. By the look in her eyes, she seemed genuinely imploring for his permission. He was at a momentary loss for words. “Well, I…certainly strongly advise against it!”

    “Unless you would like to personally lead the charge against the gates of Hordemar City,” Mok said, looking at Gimbo.

    Gimbo put his fist on his hips. “Mok, I can’t believe you would be on board with this. Isn’t this what you would call...how did you put it earlier? A half-cocked scheme?”

    “I don't like it. But the other option I like even less. The winds of my ancestors are strong, but not _ that _ strong.”

    “I trust Korridan’s magic hands,” Rosa said. “If he says he can brew up an inoculation to protect me, I believe him.”

    Korridan shrugged. “I’m a magic man.”

    They smiled at each other and Gimbo sensed some inside joke had passed between them. It no doubt had some kind of convoluted origin he didn’t care to speculate about

    “Besides,” Rosa said, “it sounds like a grand adventure. Get fanged by a giant spider in the name of brewery science.”    

    “Oh it is an adventure,” Oralius said. “The best kind!”

    “After I’ve been envenomed, what’s the next step? The milking me part, as you described it so poetically.”

    “Oh, that’s the easiest part. Once the venom’s had time to incubate in ye veins for a little while, we open one up and draw it out with yer blood. It won’t require a lot of yer precious, vital fluids. Just a few vials worth. Ye'll come out completely fine, I promise! And I’m sure the Worgen blood’ll add a little extra spice to John’s brew--he’ll thank ye for that. If it doesn’t turn him into one of ye.” He winked at her. “So what do ye say? Are ye all on board?”

 

    The next morning, the Problem Solvers and their two new friends gathered before a series of caves in the nearby hillsides. A scattering of webs lay across the ground outside, some containing wrapped bundles that Gimbo hoped didn’t contain hapless beings of the two-legged variety.

    Korridan handed Rosa a glass vial. “Here’s the inoculation that I prepared for you. These reagents should significantly slow the progress of the venom in your bloodstream and fortify your body's natural defenses”

    She took it from his hand and looked at him. “Just drink it up?”

    “Drink it up. But I would wait until immediately before you take the bite.”

    “Right-o.” She put it in one of the small pouches on her belt.

    “I wouldn’t recommend ye all go in there together,” Oralius said. “Those tunnels can get tighter than a fat Goblin’s corset. Ye won’t have room for any of that fancy magic slinging in there either if ye don’t want to end up blastin’ your own friends and comrades. I’d say no more than two of ye should go traipsin’ in there at a time.”  

    “I will go with her,” Mok said, stepping forward.

    “No,” Gimbo declared. “I’ll go.” He pushed passed Mok and walked to Rosa’s side. “Onward and upward. Once more into the breech as they say.”

    She gazed at him. “You?”

    “You?” Mok echoed.

    “Why not me? Let no one say Gimbo Tinkertorque ever asked a comrade to delve into a deep, damp tunnel he was too afraid to go into himself. We’ll be the perfect team. Spider Fighters, Smoulderweb Smashers, Gnome and Wolf--I'm sure we’ll find a suitable team name along the way. Besides, after what happened in Redridge...it's the least I can do.”

    “Indeed it is.” She put her hands on her hips and grinned down at him. “But I rather like Wolf and Gnome myself. Don't you?”

    Gimbo quickly nodded. “Yes, of course.”

    “Alright, enough dilly-dawdling, ye two!” Oralius said. “To the caves with ye! It should be dark, damp, and packed with deadly, creeping spiders. What great fun! I wish I could explore them, but Winky's being a prude again and he won’t let me go. Oh well.” He looked wistfully towards the caves and sighed.

    Gimbo and Rosa looked at each other. Gimbo made a swirling motion around his temple with an index finger and Rosa quietly whistled the two-tone call of a cuckoo bird.

    As they started off towards the caves, Lunk called after them. "No kill in there, okay? Promise Lunk."

    Rosa rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him.

    He called louder. "No kill! Promise Lunk!"

    She turned halfway towards him. "Alright, love! We promise--no killing!"

    Lunk looked satisfied.

    Rosa leaned close to Gimbo. “I'm glad he's not coming. I got a feeling my axe may accidentally slip from my hands and lob off a few heads and legs while we're off spelunking.”

    Gimbo nodded. “Just makes sure it doesn’t slip and lob off mine. As he smiled, he felt for his dagger to make sure it was still close at his side. His hand closed around the bound leather hilt. Nothing to do but get on with this half-cocked scheme. Spiders or bust.

    As Gimbo and Rosa walked through the gaping mouth of the cave and into the cavity beyond, Gimbo cast the light of his torch up to the stalactites hanging above their heads. He had the distinct feeling of entering the gullet of some eldritch beast. Gimbo had been in plenty of caves in his time so he wondered why this one was making him so nervous. He imagined the spiders crawling around in this beast's belly in some kind of perverse symbiotic relationship, feeding off parasites that stray into its digestive system, sheltered from predators inside the wet warmth of its bowels. There they waited skittering, lurking, ready to pounce and cocoon unsuspecting gnomes.

    He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. "Are you alright, love?” Rosa said, looking down at him. “You're rattling like a badly-constructed gyrocopter."

    "Rosa, I think I'm arachnophobic."

    She cocked and eyebrow. "And you didn't know this before now? Grand timing, love."

    "Well, I was just imagining the spiders living in some horrific symbiotic relationship with this cave, crawling around inside it's bowels, feeding off of interlopers, and--”

    She looked at him with lidded eyes. "You mean you phobia-ed yourself again."

    His face reddened. "Ah...yes. Hopefully it'll pass. Heck, I've faced down insane trolls, angry demons, and Titan constructs in the deep places of the world. I just have to think positively. I mean, how could a Gnome be safer than to have a ferocious, friendly wolf-warrior on his side? And beautiful. A beautiful, ferocious, friendly wolf-warrior. Intelligent, funny, warm, uninhibited...”

    One corner of her mouth cocked up in a smile. “Oh I like your kind of positive thinking. Although I'm not sure that your wife would.”

    He put his fists on his hips. “Hey, Bibby knows my positive thinking is always strictly professional.”

    “Always?”

    “Always.”

    She leaned down close to his ear. “Then why are you blushing?”  

    “I am certainly _ not _ blushing! It's just the heat of this cursed place!”

    She put out a conciliatory hand. “Joking, love. Just joking.”

    They continued deeper into the cave down a long, winding passage. The passage eventually opened up into a wider room and Gimbo raised his torch to search for the walls and ceiling. The torchlight settled on the far wall, about twenty to thirty feet ahead. He looked at the ceiling about ten feet up, where bats hung in tight clusters between the stalactites. He stopped for a few moments to listen to their high-pitched twits and squeaks.

    “Fascinating little guys, aren't they, Rosa?” he said.

    She shrugged her shoulders. “Sure, love. They're alright.”

    “I've always liked bats.” He took a step forward and his boot landed in something soft and mushy. He looked down at the black caking his soles. “Ah, cogs.”

    “I was _ guano _ warn you about that,” Rosa said.

    Gimbo rolled his eyes. “Har, har. Thanks.”

    They reached the far side of the room and found two passages branching off from it. The one to their right sloped sharply downwards while the one straight ahead of them seemed to stay fairly level, though the ceiling was significantly lower and the path narrow.

    Rosa looked at him. “Eeny-meeny-mynee-mo?”

    “How about a little more scientific approach? Judging by the slope of the ceiling, it's safe to assume the passage straight ahead will become impassable within a few hundred feet. The other passage, while a steep and difficult climb down, was probably carved by the flow of a large amount of water and most likely leads to deeper and more open areas of the cave system. Areas more likely to house our spider nest.”

    "If you say so. After you."

    As they continued down the passage, climbing down a steep path of fallen rocks, Gimbo thought he heard a scratching noise above him. He looked but saw nothing. A pebble tumbled down the rock face and settled at his feet. He shrugged off the bad feeling he was getting and walked closer to Rosa’s side. This hole in the ground seemed pretty spider-free. He began to wonder if they had gone into the wrong cave. Oralius had seemed pretty sure about this place, but then again, he was also pants-on-head insane.

    The steep passage began to level out forty feet down or so, giving them a relatively easy path ahead even though the floor remained uneven. As they walked side by side, Gimbo cleared his throat and gave Rosa a sidelong look. "Rosa, can I ask you a personal question?"

    "Sure, love. Ask me anything you like."

    "You haven't said a word about Hilda or what happened to her since we left Redridge two days ago. You don't even seem especially upset over the whole ordeal. Not that I'm saying you don't care,” he added quickly. “Of course you care. I know how close the two of you are. I'm just wondering...do you blame me for all this? Do you despise me for what I let happen to your best friend?”

    She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like you've been planning to broach this subject for a long time. Perhaps now I better understand the purpose of all the compliments earlier?"

    He put up his hands. "Oh, please don't get me wrong. I meant every word that I said. But, um...hopefully it helped a bit?"

    “Possibly." She seemed to ponder for a moment, then she sighed. “Of course, I’m worried, love. Of course it bothers me that perhaps a reckless decision led to the situation we face now...but it’s not my place to judge my alpha or second guess his leadership. You lead this pack and you make decisions which you believe are best for us. It’s my place to follow and that is what I choose to do.” She smiled mildly. “It’s the Worgen way.”

Gimbo felt genuinely moved. He put a hand over his heart. "Wow, Rosa. I never knew you thought of me as your alpha. I'm--I'm flattered." His face became resolute. "I promise you, this is not a responsibility that I intend to take lightly. From here, forward, I promise to lead my pack wisely and bravely always to the best of my ability and to fully earn the faith you’ve put in me." He paused, then gave her a sly grin. "Hey, does this mean that I get to tell you when to sit, stay, heel, or roll over?"

    "Try _ that _ , boyo, and we'll get to see how long you survive without your jugular. With all due respect, alpha."

    Gimbo nodded. "Point well taken, ma'am."

They continued on in silence for a few moments, then Gimbo stopped. There was that noise again. He looked behind him, then shined his torch on the ceiling.

    A five-foot long spider lay flattened and motionless against the ceiling, five feet directly above them. Its massive leg span stretched the width of the passage, wedging its body between the cave walls. The torchlight glinted off the eight marble-like eyes set in its small head. Gimbo felt as if a thousand ants were crawling up and down his back.

    “Oi, hello,” Rosa said, her eyes wide.

    Gimbo held his hand out towards her while staring at the spider. “Rosa? No. Sudden. Movements. Let's back away. Slowly.” He heard the clinking of the empty glass vial of Korridan’s inoculant at his feet and whipped around to stare at Rosa lifting her axe blade towards the spider.

    Gimbo felt his heart leap into his throat and he grabbed her arm. “Rosa, wait! Are you a crazy woman?”

    She scowled down at him, looking irritated. “What? I was going to poke the leggy rotter. I'm supposed to get bitten, aren't I?”

    “Yes, but not right here! I don't want a giant spider falling down on top of me.”

    She pointed past him, farther down the passage. "Stand over there, then. This is my surest and fastest way to get bitten."

    Gimbo raised both hand towards her and waved them back and forth. "No, no, no! It's looking right at you, for Light's sake. You've got to surprise one so it doesn't have time web you first. Just move with me over here where it's safe.” He pointed behind him as he began to back up. “Way over here.”

    She put a hand on her hip. "You've got the bloody knife. Just cut me loose if I get webbed."

    "Rosa, this is not the right time. I'm telling you!"

    She rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop being a lily-livered wanker.”

    "Hey, I'm your alpha! You can't call me a wanker!"

    "Grow a bloody backbone and I'll happily agree!"

    Rosa lifted her axe again and Gimbo shone the torch on the ceiling. The spider was gone.

    “Whoa! Okay!” He whirled around and looked behind him, then forward down the passage. He frantically searched the walls and all over the ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest. “Okay, okay, okay. This is bad. This is bad.”

    “Calm down, Gimbo,” he heard Rosa say.

    He continued looking around. "But where did it go?"

    "I don't know, but if you keep up like that, you'll hyperventilate."

     "It's stalking us! Light help us--where did it go?"

    "It probably crawled into a hole somewhere. Now calm down before I slap you."

    "Aren't you even a little unnerved?"

    "Of course I am. But there's nothing to do now but sally onward, love. Give me that torch if you're not going to lead."

    He gripped the torch tighter. "No! No...I'll lead.” He took several deep breaths. I'm the alpha. I can handle this."

    Rosa stooped over him and put her hands behind her back. "Would you like me to hold your hand for the rest of the way, Mr. Alpha?" she said sweetly.

    He kept his eyes focused ahead as he marched forward. "Bugger off."

    She gave him a wolfish grin. "Bravo. Now you're acting the part."

    Gimbo made it a few more feet before hearing a shuffling noise behind him that made him stop short. He turned around quickly. “Rosa, did you hear that?” Rosa stood aside and he shone the torch back up the tunnel. Three spiders filled the tunnel a few feet behind them, creeping towards them on spindly, arching legs. “Oh cogs.”


	5. Chapter 5

    The nearest spider rose up high on its legs and bent its abdomen under its body, exposing its spinnerets. A thick stream of webbing shot out like a grappling hook.

    Rosa shoved Gimbo out of the way and his back hit the wall of the passage behind him, almost knocking the breath completely out of his lungs. The webbing hit Rosa at an angle, plastering her entire left side against the opposite wall. "Damned, leggy buggers!" she snarled.

    Gimbo ran to her with his dagger drawn.

    A spider scrambled up the side of the wall and aimed its spinnerets at Gimbo. The webbing shot at him and he dove to the ground, dropping the torch in the process. The webbing plastered the wall behind him. Two spiders advanced on Rosa while the spider on the wall stayed focused on Gimbo, dipping its abdomen again to shoot its webbing. Gimbo grabbed up the still-burning torch and ran to close the distance between him and the spider. The spider shot its webbing, Gimbo dodged right and flattened himself against the opposite wall. He pushed off from the wall and came upon the spider, stabbing his dagger into one of its large, primary eyes.

    The spider reeled and fell off the wall, onto its back. Gimbo quickly plunged his dagger into its upturned abdomen. The spider struggled briefly and fell still.

    “Gimbo, now is a capital time to cut me loose!” Rosa yelled.

    Gimbo looked quickly towards her and saw the spiders surrounding her and gathering silk from their spinnerets with their back pairs of legs He ran to Rosa and thrust his torch towards the spiders. “Yah!” he shouted. “Back! Yah!”

    The spiders drew back, batting at the torch with their front legs. Taking advantage of their momentary retreat, Gimbo turned to Rosa and thrust his dagger up into the webbing along the wall and began to saw, carving an outline around her left side. Her left arm was the first to come free and she was able to grip her axe with both hands. Gimbo cut her out a little more and she was able to tear herself free, pushing off from the wall.

    Not wasting any time, Rosa charged a spider. It reared up on it back pair of legs and she closed with it, holding her axe horizontally with both hands. The spider's legs came down on top of it and she held the spider there. She was eye-level with the spiders dripping fangs and she thrust her exposed forearm towards them. Her ears stretched and grew long and pointed as fur sprouted and covered her skin. "Bite me, you son of a motherless ogre." she said as her face elongated and her canines grew into fangs, her voice turning guttural.

    The spider stabbed at her with its front pair of legs but it didn't attempt to bite her arm.

    She pushed her arm closer. "Right here! Come on, you skittering bastard!"

    The spider shot silk onto her legs and rapidly wrapped them with its second pair of back legs.

    Rosa looked down. "Cheeky bastard."

    The spider pulled away and Rosa fell forward, hitting the ground with a "whump!" Both spiders jumped upon her prone form and began rapidly spinning her body over and over as they wrapped her in silk from the legs upward. Rosa gave an enraged snarl as her axe flew from her hands and clattered against a rock wall.

    Gimbo was amazed at their strength as they lifted, spun and wrapped her, armor and all as if she weighed nothing. “Hold on," he said. "I'm coming!" He thrust the torch at the spiders again, yelling wildly.

    One spider dropped Rosa, turned on him and struck at him with its two front pairs of legs. He ducked his head and dodged left, avoiding the spider's attack but his foot slipped on the damp floor of the passage and he went sailing onto his back. The fall knocked the breath out of his lungs, but he clung to the torch for dear life and somehow he managed to hang onto it. He began to sit up and found the spider straddling his body with its massive leg span, its fangs inches from his face. He immediately thrust his dagger up into the center of its cephalothorax. The spider shrieked and fell away.

    Gimbo rolled away from the dead spider, got back to his feet and leaped upon the spider that still held Rosa, stabbing it in the back of the head. The spider dropped her and struggled briefly before falling onto its back, its legs curling inward.

    When he was sure the spider was dead, Gimbo set the torch against a wall and set about sawing through the silk entrapping Rosa from the waist down. It was thick and sticky and his blade constantly stuck to it as he struggled to cut through. Sawing diligently, he finally managed to open the silk all the way down to her feet. He helped her to peel it away from her body and she kicked off the last bit with her feet.

    She sat up and put a hand on Gimbo's shoulder. “Thank you, Alpha.”

    Gimbo nodded. “Any time. You know it could be my imagination, but these spiders don't seem interested in biting you.”

    “Maybe I smell funny.”

    “You’ve been traveling under desert heat, unwashed for the past three days. Of course you smell funny."

    He heard shuffling above him and looked up to see at least four spiders clinging to the ceiling. He looked down the passage ahead and saw more spiders creeping towards him and Rosa along the floor and walls. They ranged in size from two to five feet long and he was sure they all hadn't eaten lately.

    “Rosa, code one,” Gimbo said. “I think it's time for a tactical retreat.”

    Her ears fattened as she stared wide-eyed at the approaching horde of spiders. “Er...right-o. Lead the way, alpha.” She jumped to her feet and snatched up her axe.

    Gimbo sprinted back up the passage and Rosa ran alongside him. They passed jutting rocks and damp walls on their way out. Gimbo noticed something odd about the path ahead. It seemed to slope downward as if descending further into the cave. He looked at the walls and thought the passage seemed much narrower than he remembered.  "Rosa," he said, "I don't think this is the way we came."

    She stared at him. "What? What are you saying?"

    The passage suddenly opened up into a large cavern with a ceiling far out of sight. Gimbo came to a halt and stared into the expansive blackness in front of him. This definitely wasn't here before. He looked at the floor beneath his feet and founded it matted with spider silk. His torchlight fell upon a thick cluster of strands approximately six feet ahead. He followed the length of the cluster towards the ceiling where it joined a massive network of spider webs. Shapes clustered in the webs, which he quickly realized were spiders—hundreds of them. Several skittered rapidly along the webs towards him and Rosa.

    "About face," Gimbo yelled. "Other way! Other way!"

    “I don't bloody believe this! You led us in the wrong bloody direction? Gimbo, you're a darling, love—but where's your bloody head?”

    “Long lost, that's where! Come on!”

    They whirled and ran out of the massive cavern, back through the passage until they encountered the cluster of spiders they had fled from only a bare few minutes before. At least nine of them filled the width and height of the passage.

    Gimbo drew his dagger. “Cogs, what do we do now?”

    He saw rage burning in her glowing eyes. "Climb onto my back and hold on for your life!" she snarled.

    Gimbo knew better than to second guess her or hesitate when he saw that look in her eyes and he quickly climbed onto her back, wrapping his legs around her hips and holding on tightly to her shoulders.

    Rosa brandished her axe and gave a furious, bellowing howl that reverberated through the passage. The spiders halted in their tracks and seemed stunned by the sudden, new ferocity of their prey. Immediately following her intimidating shout, Rosa charged into the midst of them, swinging her axe with broad, cleaving strokes. She cut down three spiders in as many seconds before a massive spider reared up before her. She cleaved its body in two with a single stroke, then separated another's head from its cephalothorax with a backhand strike. She brought her boot crashing down on a spider's head, crushing it under foot.

    Dodging out of her path and climbing up the wall behind her, a spider sprung from the wall towards her, but she turned and cleaved it in mid-flight, forcing Gimbo to duck to avoid the flying, dripping front half of its body. Rosa howled and brought her axe to the peak of its arc before plunging it into the abdomen of a spider at her feet. She cleaved another massive spider and sent a leaping one sailing into a wall with the flat of her axe before bursting through to the other side of the cluster and fleeing up the steeply ascending passage towards the outside air.

    “It's times like these when I remember why I love you, Rosa Carter,” Gimbo said, laughing.

    She looked up at him and grinned. They soon reached the large cavern where they had made a left turn earlier and re-entered the winding passage leading to the cave's entrance.

    From the darkness, a massive weight dropped onto Gimbo's back and his eyes flew open in shock. Rosa fell forward from the sudden blow and she went sprawling on the cave floor while Gimbo lost his footing and tumbled away from her fallen body. The torch snuffed out as it flew from Gimbo's hand, hit the ground and rolled away, sending a trail of embers bouncing in its wake. He heard Rosa yelp in pain, then she was struggling with something in the darkness. There was a lot of crashing and scraping, then a spider shrieked and there was silence.

    He called into the darkness. “Rosa, are you alright? Did you kill it? Is it dead? Are you dead?”

    Her voice came from the darkness in answer. “Still alive, thank you. I think I chopped the bugger in the head. What happened to the torch?”

    Gimbo searched for it and spotted its dying embers glowing in the darkness a few feet away. He crawled on his hands and knees towards the glow before reaching the embers and feeling for the torch handle until his hand brushed against it. Grabbing it up, he began blowing on the embers in a desperate bid to relight them. If he couldn't, the two of them would be stuck feeling along the damp walls in absolute darkness, defenseless against the attacks of unseen foes.

    “Well, I'm quite bitten now,” Rosa said. “Fanged me right in the left shoulder, the skittering bastard. By the Light, it hurts!”

    Gimbo stood up. “Hold tight,” he said. “I'll get our light back. Don't worry.” He took deep breaths, blowing on the embers as hard as he could. They glowed brightly but refused to catch. “Oh please, come on,” he pleaded. He blew again and again, then the fire flared up in his face, causing him to yelp and draw back. Holding the torch at arm’s length, he glared at it, sure that his mustache and eyebrows were singed.

    He walked to Rosa's side as she stood up and straightened her back. She looked shaky. “Are you alright” he asked.

    “Yes, I'm fine, love. Just a bit dizzy, that’s all.”

    “Let's get out of here, then.”

    They continued running up the passage until Gimbo could just make out the faint glow of daylight ahead. As he ran he heard Rosa’s breathing becoming labored and harsh. He looked to see her stumbling in her steps as her pace slowed. “Rosa, what's wrong?” he said.

    “My heart's racing. I feel like my throat is closing up. I can...barely breathe.”

    He saw that her lips were red and puffy, and her eyes were nearly swollen shut. “Rosa, something's seriously wrong. You look like you're experiencing some kind of reaction.”

    She suddenly halted and doubled over, clutching her stomach with both hands. “The pain. My stomach. It feels like it's all going to bloody come up!”

    He stood in front of her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You can't stop now. Rosa, I would gladly carry you if I could but you know that's impossible. You have to keep going.”

    Her face was screwed up in pain, her fangs clenched, and her ears flat against her skull. “I can't...the pain...can't breathe.” She fell against the tunnel wall.

    Gimbo rushed to her and caught her before she slumped to the ground. He cupped her chin with his free hand. “I'll drag you out of here if I have to. Come on, we're so close.”

    "So much for my...resilient Worgen beast blood.” She gasped and grimaced as she clutched her stomach again. “Terribly sorry, Alpha. I thought could—I thought I could do it.”

    "It's not the venom poisoning your bloodstream that’s causing this—you're experiencing a systemic allergic reaction it. You show all the classic symptoms.  We couldn't have predicted this, so there's no point in blaming yourself. This whole venture was a stupid idea anyway. Oralius is going to hear it from me when we get back. Now lean on me, we're getting out of here together."

    She put her arm around his shoulder and he grimaced as her weight crushed down on him. He took a few labored steps forward before he had to stop to catch his breath.

    "Gimbo," Rosa rasped, "You have to put me down and go run for help."

    He shook his head. "No. Not an option. You'll be mincemeat for the spiders." He lifted her with renewed determination, straining with all his strength to carry her forward.

    Rosa tried to keep her weight on her feet, to limp alongside him, but Gimbo could tell she was losing her motor functions. He half carried, half walked her ever closer towards the cave entrance, each step achieved with great effort and every foot traveled a victory. Her full weight suddenly fell on his shoulders and he cried out as he crumpled to his knees. He knelt there panting heavily, then looked at her.    

    “Rosa, what's wrong?” he said. “Rosa!”

    She looked delirious and barely aware of what was going on around her. He lifted her and tried to move forward but fell to his knees again after making it only two steps. “Come on, Rosa, you can't quit now. Stand up!” He tried to lift her again but failed. “Stand up! I'm your alpha and I ORDER you to stand up!”

    When she didn't respond, he set her down, grabbed her by an arm and began to drag her along. It was only a few feet before he realized that he would never get her out like this. He stopped and slumped down next to her against the wall, drawing in deep breaths as he sat there, panting. Despairing.

    After he had recovered his breath, he turned to her. “Okay. Just...just sit tight. I'm going for help.” He ran his hand over the fur at the back of her head and tousled an ear. “Please forgive me. I know I said we would get out of here together, but I just can't take you any farther like this.” He stood up and could feel tears welling behind his eyes. “Please don't die here. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.” He turned from her and flew up the passage in a dead run towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

    Korridan, Mok, and Lunk sat in a small circle next to where Dadanga lay napping, on the ridge overlooking the caves. Oralius paced back and forth a short distance away, arguing with the air.

    “I can see the virtue of your position, Lunk and I can't say I completely disagree," Korridan said.

    Mok scoffed. "I can. Glory and honor goes to the warrior who strikes down evil before the innocent can be harmed."

    Korridan turned to him. "Mercy is as much a virtue as righteous fury, Mok. Evil can sometimes be redeemed. It is more heroic to change a life than to take one."

    Lunk spoke up. "Yes. Lunk agrees with little Elf. Have much to teach Orc." He and Korridan both nodded. Mok crossed his arms over his chest and looked away with a grunt.   

    Gimbo burst from the mouth of the cave and into the light of day. He stumbled forward with his hands shielding his eyes. “Help!” he shouted frantically, waving his arms. “Mok, Korridan, help!"

    Korridan and Mok jumped to their feet on sight of him.

    "Rosa is dying! Hurry!” Gimbo shouted. Korridan and Mok raced down the ridge towards him with Lunk following close behind.

    Gimbo met them, breathing heavily. He pointed back towards the cave. “Rosa...she's having an allergic reaction to the spider's venom. We have to go get her out of there! She's dying!”

    Mok looked dumbfounded. “What? You left her in there? Coward, why did you leave her in there alone?”

    He turned to face him, fists clenched, his face nearly purpling with rage. “I had no CHOICE, Mok! She's delirious and she can barely move. She's three times my size—I couldn't carry her out! Believe me, I tried. I tried so hard, Mok. What was I supposed to do? Huh? Answer me!”

    “There is no time to stand here bickering,” Korridan said. “Gimbo, lead us to her immediately!”

    Gimbo gave Mok one more withering glare and motioned to Korridan. “She's not far! We made it most of the way together!” He ran ahead and Korridan, Mok, and Lunk followed him. They entered the cave and raced down the passage until they came upon Rosa lying across the path and surrounded by four spiders. She was partially wrapped in silk and being dragged down the passage by two of them.

     Korridan readied a brilliant glow of light in his hand. Mok charged and drew his swords.

    "Wait, no kill!" Lunk bellowed. He rushed ahead, cutting Mok off. He leaped and sailed an amazing distance considering the massive bulk of his body, landing belly-first on top of the two spiders dragging Rosa.

    Gimbo blinked, staring at the sight. "How in the green hills of Stranglethorn does he do that?"

    Lunk stood up, leaving the two spiders underneath him nearly flattened with their legs splayed out and twitching all around them. One of the remaining spiders tried to leap on Lunk, but he grabbed it by the legs and used it as a flail, swinging its body into the last spider and letting go, sending them both flying down the tunnel.

    Mok ran to Rosa. “Out of the way,” he said as he stepped in front of Lunk. He knelt down next to her, rolled her onto her back, and opened her eyelids with his thumbs. Gimbo joined him and saw that her eyes were rolled upwards, unseeing.

    A deep fear chilled his bones. “Mok, is she dead?” he asked shakily.

    “No,” Mok said. “Still breathing.”

    Korridan gathered light in his hands and placed them mindfully just beneath her bust. The light from his hands caused the skin under her thick fur to luminesce through her shirt and seemed to penetrate deep into her body as it continually grew in intensity.

    Gimbo watched with fascination and anxiousness, looking back and forth between Korridan and Rosa.

    “I have stabilized her vital systems and stopped the reaction to the venom for now, but we must take her to Oralius and extract the venom from her bloodstream immediately.” Korridan said. “Mok, help me carry her outside.”

    “Let Lunk help puppy lady,” Lunk said. He stepped past Mok, gathered Rosa effortlessly in his arms, and walked over the still stunned spiders in the cavern floor as he carried her back up the passage.

    The group met Oralius waiting for them at the cave entrance. He clapped his hands together, looking very pleased. “Ah, took ye long enough. Is she poisoned? Did ye bring the milk with ye?”

    Gimbo stepped in front of him and pointed in his face. “There you are! I have a bone to pick with you but that will have to wait. Milk her...or whatever. Do what you have to do. Get the venom out of her! NOW!”

    Oralius took a step back. “Whoa! Easy, lad! Just get her on the ground over here and open a vein for me. I've got a bowl we can let her blood out in, and then we should end up with a hearty draw of Mother's Milk. Priest, after we're done, don't forget to cauterize the vein right up with that fancy burnin' light of yours.”

    As Oralius left to grab his bowl, Mok took a blanket from Dadanga and laid it out on the ground for Rosa. She was stirring in Lunk's arms and mumbled a few words but Gimbo was unable to make any of it out.

    Lunk laid Rosa down on the blanket where Korridan returned to her side. A few moments later, Oralius returned with the bowl in his hands and knelt next to Korridan while Gimbo used his dagger to open a vein on her arm and watched as Oralius let the blood flow into his bowl.

    Gimbo waited ten seconds, then twenty and began to fret. “Don't you have enough yet?” he asked. “She's going to bleed out at this rate!”

    “Hold your kodos,” Oralius said. “That should do it in three...two...one. Okay close it up!”

    Korridan cauterized the vein with a quick flare of light and placed his hands beneath her chest again. The glow once again penetrated her body, and then gradually dissipated into a spiral of light in the air above her. “I have purified the remaining venom from her bloodstream,” he said.

    Everyone stood or knelt around her, watching as her breathing and heart beat gradually returned to normal. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared into Korridan's.

    Gimbo moved in closer. “Rosa, are you back with us?”

    “I saw a...light at the end of a tunnel, but I didn’t...didn’t go towards it,” she said.

    Gimbo broke into a smile and Mok and Korridan looked similarly relieved. “I’m glad you decided to return to your old comrades instead of moving on to greener pastures.”

    Rosa struggled to sit up on the blanket and Korridan helped her rise. “It was not...not an easy decision, mind you,” she continued. “There was a tall, strapping stallion of a man standing in the light, beckoning to me into his thick, toned arms. He had a head of long, luxurious blond locks, oiled, bronzed skin, and mysterious blue eyes. He called to me by name, his voice deep, dark, and passionate.” She smiled at the sky, sliding her tongue across her protruding fangs.

    Korridan laid a hand on her arm and squeezed it. “Rosa, we are all very proud of you for not following that man into the light. We realize how incredibly hard that must have been for you.”

    She looked at him through lidded eyes. “Darling...you have _ no _ idea.”

    "Can you stand?"

    She nodded. "Yes, I think so." She put an arm around his shoulders and he helped her rise to her feet. She staggered slightly as she stood.

    Korridan murmured a prayer of mending as he moved a hand over her.

    Oralius came striding up, grinning from ear to ear. “Very good! All’s well that ends well, as they say.” He held up a bundle of five corked vials filled with Rosa’s blood. “Got Mother’s Milk all bundled up and ready to go. Ol’ John’s going to be one happy Dwarf.”

    Gimbo jumped to his feet and cut in front of Oralius, blocking his path. “Oralius, it’s time for us to have that little talk. What were you thinking? Rosa almost died because of you! If we hadn’t been following your ridiculous plan, none of this would have happened!”

    Oralius took a few steps back and spread his hands. “What're ye mad at me for? We got Mother's Milk. It's fresh and ready for Ragged John. We've secured your only ticket into the Blackrock Spire. Ye should be thankin' me.” He put his hands on his hips and looked to the side. “There's gratitude for ye, eh, Winky?”

    Gimbo felt hot blood rush to his ears. He marched towards Oralius, rolling up his sleeves as he clenched his fists into balls. “I'll show you what I think about you, Mother's Milk, and your little imaginary friend!”

    Korridan rushed to head Gimbo off and thrust the head of his staff between him and Oralius. “Gimbo, stop,” he said sternly.

    Oralius took a fighting stance and put up his fists. “Oh so ye wanna get physical now, eh, wee lad? Bring it on! I love a good bout of fisticuffs. You stay out of this, Winky. The two of us are gonna settle this man to man!”

    “Stop it, both of you!” Korridan said. “Gimbo, we all agreed to Oralius's plan. Any fault lies as much with you and I as it does with him.”

    Rosa walked up to Gimbo as her wolfish features faded, giving way to her human form. She leaned down next to him and pressed her lips against his cheek. “You're sweet to come valiantly t o my defense, but Korridan is right, love. I went into that cave understanding the what I was getting myself into, and I chose to do it anyway—for Hilda and for all of us. It turned out well in the end. Come now, friends and comrades mustn't fight.”

    Gimbo found his righteous fury completely deflated at the touch of her kiss and the sound of her voice in his ear. He desperately wanted to stay angry, but she always made it so darned impossible when she talked in that soothing voice she was so darned good at. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But it remains to be seen if everything turns out well in the end. Until this 'milk' gets us into Blackwing Lair unscathed and undiscovered, I reserve the right to punch that Dwarf out cold if I happen to think of a good enough reason.” He turned from Oralius and made his way towards Dadanga. “Mount up and move out, Problem Solvers. We have a mountain to conquer.”

    The group, with Oralius riding on Lunk’s shoulders tagging along, were soon underway once again. As Dadanga cantered along an ancient, fading cobblestone road across the scorched plains of the Steppes, Gimbo looked towards the distant peak of Blackrock Mountain. The haze that obscured it for most of the past two days had parted and he could see the spire in its full, monolithic infamy. Fountains of lava spewed periodically from its massive, unseen crater and ran in rivers down its sides. He had only ever heard stories and rumors of the horrors awaiting inside that vast, old citadel.  Of all of Azeroth's dark, forbidding places, this was the one had always hoped to avoid visiting. Hilda was inside there somewhere, clutched within the dreadful grip of the mountain. Whether she were dead or alive, he didn't know, but he decided then and there that he would find her, rescue her or bring her body back home—even if they all died trying.

 

Blackrock Mountain, one and a half days later:

 

    The Problem Solvers and company stood with Dadanga at the top of a wide stone ramp straddling a moat of flowing lava as it reached up to the massive iron gates that led to the mountain's interior. The path to this point had not been easy as they were forced to seek cover from more than a few hostile patrols along the road through the Fields of Honor and around Blackrock Stronghold. The ubiquitous worgs and roaming black Dragonspawn had also been a constant concern.

    Now that they were finally here, the portal before them stood silent and eerily unguarded. Gimbo supposed the Blackrocks never really expected invaders to come in this way, having long subdued any attempts by the Dark Iron Dwarves below them to take back the spire. Ever since the Dwarf's master Ragnaros had been banished from this mortal plane four years ago and Emperor Thaurissan subsequently slain, the two sides seemed content to stay where they were, neither one meddling in the affairs of the other. It was a pity they hadn't wiped each other out by now, but he supposed the current state of affairs was just as well. Peace was quite favorable for sneaking inside a mountain.

    “Now if I remember the accounts of this place correctly,” Gimbo said, “we have to get to that giant rock hanging in the middle there, through the tomb of Franclorn Forgewright, then climb down that chain at the bottom, over the lava, and into Blackrock Depths, where we will find the passage into Shadowforge City.” He looked warily behind him at the battlements of Blackrock Stronghold in the distance. “We have to hurry before we're seen here. Everyone ready?”

    Oralius burst out laughing, holding his chest and slapping his knee. Gimbo cocked an eyebrow, watching him for a moment before putting his fists on his hips. “Excuse me...what's so funny?”

    “You are!” Oralius said, struggling to regain his composure. “Are ye—are ye ding-dong daft in the head, lad? There's no reason to do any chain-climbing through a dusty, old tomb. We just go in through the front gate.”

    Gimbo gave him a puzzled look. “There's a front gate?”

    “It's a city, lad. Of course there's a front gate. What kind of city woul d force a population of thousands to use a little cubbyhole at the bottom of a giant chain to get in and out of it? Haven't ye ever heard of the Dark Iron Highway? Follow me, I'll show ye the way!” He thumped Lunk's armpits with his heels. “Lunk, take us up, will you?”

    Gimbo, Rosa, and Mok remounted Dadanga and Oralius and Lunk led them through the mountain gates, up the ramp circumventing the lava pit. They soon came upon a flow of foot, horse, and carriage traffic along a wide, stone passage entering the mountain from the direction of the Searing Gorge, towards another set of massive gates halfway up the ramp. Ashen-skinned and red-eyed Dark Iron guards lined the arrow slits carved out of the rock above the gates, watching the traffic passing below with faces hard and unmoving as stone. Gimbo noted among the traffic merchants, traders, and citizens from all over the Eastern Kingdoms as they traveled through the gates into the vaulted, fire-lit cavern beyond. The great Shadowforge City.

    Gimbo stared in astonishment. “Wow. How come this was never mentioned in any of the descriptions?”

    Oralius shrugged. “Beats me. Let's go on in. The Grim Guzzler awaits!”

    Lunk strode forward and Gimbo immediately rushed Dadanga ahead to cut him off, reigning him to a halt in Lunk’s path. “Wait, you! What about the guards? We can't just walk in under their sooty noses—not while they're looking right down at us. We need a plan, a disguise, a cover story!”

    Oralius rolled his eyes. “Calm down. We're just innocent travelers, traders, and tourists like all the rest. Just don't look the Dark Irons in the eye and they won't take a second look at you.” His face became stern. “That goes for you too, Winky. I don't want you causing any mischief in there!” His seriousness faded and a sly smile snuck onto his lips. “Anyway, if we do happen to get waylaid, just let me do all the talking.” He put an open palm next to his mouth, leaned down towards Gimbo, and spoke in a hushed tone. “I'm in good with the local guard captain.”

    Gimbo frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “In good, huh?”

    “Trust me, lad.”

    “After the spiders, I find that particularly hard to do, but I suppose at this point we don’t really have a choice.”

    “Are ye always this dire? Buck up, lad! You get to see firsthand the greatest city north of Stormwind.”

    Gimbo led Dadanga into the flow of traffic and tried to blend in as well as possible. He sidled Dadanga next to a laden carriage drawn by two horses. The Dark Iron driver gave him a nod and Gimbo gave an uneasy, sidelong smile back.

    The driver glanced up with a cocked eyebrow at Oralius riding on Lunk's shoulders while Oralius grinned like a jester and waved back animatedly.

    “Cut it out, you fool,” Gimbo grumbled. He watched the guards overhead anxiously as Dadanga passed through the gate. Thankfully, none of them gave his group any notice. On the other side of the gates, they continued down the highway, following the rest of the traffic towards the even more massive gates to Shadowforge City proper.

    The traffic passed a towering molten giant that gazed over the highway through obsidian eyes. “That's ol' Bael'Gar right there," Oralius said. "Guardian of the highway. I hear he's over eight thousand years old, but I wouldn't go asking him about it if I were you. I hear it's a sensitive topic for him.”

    Gimbo shuddered at the sight of the giant's dreadful, molten countenance. Here it begins, he mused. The horrors of this vast, old citadel.

    When Gimbo finally tore his eyes away from the giant, he saw a four-man patrol of Anvilrage soldiers standing at the edge of the highway. They watched the passing traffic intently, and as Dadanga neared, one of them turned his head and locked cold, red eyes with Gimbo's. Gimbo quickly looked away and kept his gaze straight ahead, belatedly trying to appear as casual and commonplace as possible. As Dadanga passed the soldiers, out of his peripheral vision, Gimbo could see all three staring after him.

    A gravely voice rang out over the bustle of the crowd. “You there, halt!” The Anvilrage patrol pushed through the crowd towards Gimbo, raising the flats of their axes against the flow of oncoming traffic to create a path for their sergeant, an officer in a suit of fiery red armor.

    Keeping his eyes straight ahead, Gimbo began to draw his dagger underneath his cloak. He glanced at Mok and saw him reaching for one of his swords.

    The sergeant stepped in front of Dadanga. “Hey you!”

    Gimbo pulled the kodo up short and the sergeant glanced at Oralius and Lunk as he walked past them, approached the horse-drawn cart traveling in front of Dadanga and took hold of the horse's reigns.

    The Goblin driver gawked at the sergeant in surprise, then his sharp teeth appeared as a smile and a look of recognition spread across his green visage. “Heya! Firekettle...what can I do for you on this fine day?”

    “Thneed Rizzik,” the sergeant said. “Didn’t expect ta see ye back here so soon. You wouldn’t happen to be carrying any contraband in your cart again, would you?”

    Thneed shook his head. “No, sergeant, of course not. Everything above board here. I’ve gone legit, I promise.”

    “Oh I think we should check ya just in case. Men, search the wagon.”

    Two Dark Irons removed the canvas cover from the cart while the nervous driver watched. The remaining soldier waved Gimbo on and stood aside to let traffic continue flowing around the other side of the stopped cart. “Git on with ye,” he said. “Keep it moving!”

    Oralius and Lunk continued to lead the way as the group passed through the inner gates where the formidable east and west garrisons perched on either side, the arrow slits in the parapets looking out over the highway like the thousand watching eyes of C’Thun. Beyond the gates, they crossed a wide, stone bridge over a river of lava, leading to a stone island built in the midst of the flow. The legendary Black Anvil stood in the middle, looming over passersby. The highway split into two lanes, circumventing the anvil and the raised platform upon which it was built. Upon the platform, dozens of craftsmen hammered away over a number of smaller anvils, extruding and pounding dark iron ingots into blades then dipping them into troughs of water that sizzled and roiled like a tangle of angry vipers.

    The spectacle of the anvil stood before all entering the city as a testament to the Dark Iron Dwarves' powerful skills of metal-craft, and as a warning of the power standing ready to be unleashed upon any who would dare come to make war against the proud and fierce people of the Blackrock Depths. Despite his hatred of this place, Gimbo couldn't deny his awe at the sight. The Black Anvil certainly made its point well with him.

    Passing the anvil and arriving on the other side of the lava flow, Gimbo knew next they would be traveling through the Halls of Crafting and up several spiraling flight of ramps to the Upper City. The Anvilrage patrols beyond the gates had thinned and Gimbo was feeling relieved. They may yet make it to the Grim Guzzler without incident.

    Lunk caught Gimbo's attention as he lurched forward, nearly spilling Oralius off his shoulders. Someone yelled out in pain and Gimbo stood in his stirrups, craning his neck to see what the commotion was. To his horror, a Dark Iron senator sat on his backside in the middle of the road, flanked by his entourage of Anvilrage bodyguards.

    The bodyguards looked up at Lunk, eyes flashing. “Stupid ogre!” one snarled. “What in Moira’s name do ye think you're doin’? Do ye realize what ye've done? This is Senator Durbin Darkvire ye just assaulted with yer knees, ye giant, walkin’ stump!”

    Two bodyguards each took one of the senator's arms and helped lift him to his feet. The senator brushed off his robes and his face twisted into a grimace on sight of Lunk. “Peasant! How dare ye fail to yield right of way to a senator. I'll have your head!”

    Lunk looked stunned and bewildered. “Lunk sorry,” he said. “Not see little Dwarf crossing the street.”

    “Please accept our sincerest apologies, oh illustrious senator,” Oralius said. “My friend, Lunk, is unfamiliar with your city and its street-crossing customs, great pooh-bah of the mountain depths.”

    The senator looked the two up and down, then raised an eyebrow at Oralius and pointed at Lunk. “It that yours?”

    “He is my ride currently, yes.”

    “You'd better see about teaching your ogre some manners or I'll see to it that both of ye end up suspended in a cage over a pool of roilin’ lava.”

    A bodyguard frowned at Oralius, eyeing him closely. “Hey, I know your face. I've seen ye somewhere before.”

    Oralius grinned at him. “Of course ye have! I'm Oralius!” He pointed next to him with his thumb. “I'm with Winky.”

    The bodyguard followed where his thumb was pointing and stared at the air.

    Groaning inwardly, Gimbo squeezed his eyes shut and slapped a palm against his forehead.

    “I'll bet Captain Feldspar and Winky have talked about me so often, ye feel ye know me better than your own dear mother.”

    A sergeant stepped forward and spoke up. “Captain Feldspar has never mentioned anyone by the name of Oralius as best I know, but ye do look familiar to me as well.” Keeping his eyes on Oralius, he called to the Dwarf behind him. “Blackstone, see if ye got anything on him.”

    The Dwarf opened a messenger bag at his side and started rummaging through a heavy stack of dispatches.

    “Sergeant Sootstack, must ye do this here and now?” the senator said. “I still have to make it to the market district by noon!”

    “I apologize, Lord Senator, but right now Anvilrage business takes precedence over your honor’s day trip. Please be patient. I promise to keep your delay as short as possible.”

    Gimbo began to have a very bad feeling about where this was going. He decided it was time to get them out of this with diplomacy before the situation escalated. "Excuse me, Sergeant,” he said, waving to get his attention. “Please forgive my large friend and his eccentric rider. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble for you or your honorable senator.”

    Sootstack leaned out to look at Gimbo. “Eh? Who are you?”

    “My name is Gimbo Tinkertorque. The ogre is Lunk, and the others with me are Mok, Rosa Carter, and Korridan Lorre. We’re simply tourists visiting your great city. As Oralius said, we’re not familiar with these streets and your customs. If you’ll allow us to be on our way, I’m sure we won’t trouble the senator any further and Lunk will be much more careful from now on.” He shot Lunk a hard glare.

    Sootstack looked back at Oralius. “Do ye know these people?”

    Oralius nodded. “Yes, those are my good friends. The explorer, the priest, the blademaster, and the Worgen.”

    Gimbo clenched his teeth and looked wide-eyed at Oralius, making rapid cutting motions under his chin with the edge of his hand.

    The sergeant cocked his head and looked the group over. “Ye seem mighty well-armed for tourists. A green Orc, a human, a Blood Elf...you're quite a motley bunch ain't ye?” A disconcerting smile crept onto his face. “The enemies of the Dark Iron come from afar and wide to pillage the treasures of the Blackrock Depths. The six of ye wouldn't be in Shadowforge City snooping for treasure now, would ye?”

    Rosa and Korridan warily glanced at each other. Mok scowled at the Dwarf in silence, his eyes hard and giving nothing away.

    Gimbo's nervousness was quickly turning to dread. "Of course not," he said. "We would never dream of plundering the treasures of your great city. We're interested only in treasuring the amazing vistas and grand monuments of your ancient and powerful civilization, leaving only with stories to tell our children and grandchildren."

    “I found him,” Blackstone said. “Oralius of Morgan's Militia, wanted on multiple counts.” He produced a wanted poster featuring a near perfect drawing of Oralius’s face.

    Gimbo paled. _ What? How? It has to be a mistake! _

    Sootstack looked at the poster, then up at Oralius. “Ah yes, I knew I’d been seein’ your face plastered around the city lately. Blackstone, what are the charges?”

    “Assaulting Dark Iron citizens, facilitating the escape of prisoners from the Detention Block, arson, burglary, and eighteen counts of...fanny pack theft?”

    The sergeant looked at Blackstone, his dark brow furling into a knot. “Did ye say fanny pack theft?”

    Blackstone peered at his dispatches again. “That's what it says.”

    “What about his friends? Do ye having anything on them?”

    “Uh...no, sergeant. There’s nothing here to match their descriptions. Could we take them in for abetting a known criminal?”

    “Perhaps. I know one thing for sure—they’re definitely not here just for sightseein’. We’ll book ‘em and take ‘em in for questioning just to be safe.”

    Oralius laughed. “Look, all this hanky-panky is just one fat, ogre-sized misunderstanding. I’m sure Captain Feldspar can work this all out straight away. Just call him down here and tell him Winky's friends are here.” He paused, then looked to the side. “What’s that, Winky?” His eyes flew wide and he gasped. WHAT? Winky, you didn’t tell the captain that you and me were _friends_? You dirty rat! Did even you mention me to him at all?”

    Gimbo's mouth flapped like fish gasping for air, then rage replaced disbelief as heat swelled in his face and ears. “Wha— _ what _ ? You imbecile! You've been hinging all our fates on the personal connections of a figment of your imagination? Come here so I can murder you!” 

    With a speed and commitment that left his companions agape, Gimbo stood on Dadanga's head, leaped onto Lunk's back, and climbed towards Oralius using rolls of back-fat for hand grips and footholds until he was close enough to aim a punch at the Dwarf's jaw.

    Oralius dodged his right hook and caught his left hook in his hand before it could make contact. He held Gimbo at arm's length as Gimbo continued to throw a frenzy of punches with his right fist that couldn’t quite reach Oralius’s face.

    “Come here,” Gimbo roared. “I'll turn your face into mincemeat, you lying toad-sucker!”

    Sootstack shouted above the din. “Hey—whoa! Halt, ye! Stand down!”

    Korridan stood on Dadanga and managed to grab Gimbo, dragging him off of Lunk as he kicked and flailed. “Get off of me!” Gimbo snapped. “That Dwarf is a dead man! I said get off me!”

    “Alright, that's enough!” Sootstack boomed. “Blackstone, put 'em all under arrest and take them in. We'll sort out identities and what charges to bring later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback. I love lots of critique!


	6. Chapter 6

    Stripped of all their personal possessions and left in little more than their undergarments, Oralius, Lunk, and the Problem Solvers stood in a small jail cell in the east wing of Shadowforge City’s dreaded Detention Block. In some kind of ironic consideration for the dignity of the wrongfully-accused, Rosa had been allowed to keep more of her clothes in order to stay decent. Thank the Light, Lunk got to keep his loincloth.

    Gimbo clung to the blackened iron bars of the cell door, looking between them at the two guards facing him in the torch-lit passage outside, keys in hand. “Please, this is a mistake,” he pleaded. “We were unaware of this Dwarf’s criminal record. He tricked us into coming here with him. We’re not your enemy. Please, you have to believe me.”

    “You’re being held pending charges of sheltering and abetting a known criminal,” one of the guards said, pushing his bushy eyebrows together as he eyed Gimbo. “Just sit tight, Gnome. The Ring of Law will decide what to do with ye and your accomplices soon enough.”

    The second guard brought his broad, bulbous nose up to the bars and looked inside. He smiled sardonically, showing tobacco-blackened teeth with a reed pipe clenched between them. “I look forward to seein’ ye all down in the pit. Won’t that be a pretty sight? The criminal and his new friends slaughtered together in a bloody bath. Ha! I must say though…” he looked at Rosa. “I’ll sure miss layin’ eyes that fine, fine fame ‘o yours, my lady.” His eyes traveled shamelessly over Rosa’s body. She stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her arms over her chest. He chuckled and both guards began to walk away.

    Oralius jumped to the bars, pushing Gimbo to the side as he shouted after them. “Hey ye!”

    The second guard turned back around, glaring at him.

    “Yeah, that’s right! I’m talking to ye!”

    “Shhh!” Gimbo hissed. He grabbed him to try to pull him away from the door. “Oralius, be quiet! We’re in enough trouble because of you already.”

    The sneer reappeared on the guard’s thin, blue lips. He walked back to the bars and brought fat nose up to Oralius’s. “What?”

    “Just do me one favor,” Oralius said. “I get a last request, don’t I? Tell Ragged John at the Grim Guzzler that Oralius is here and I’ve got his Mother’s Milk.”

    The second guard raised an eyebrow. “Ye got what?”

    “Well, not _his_ mother’s milk, mind you. Mother Smoulderweb’s milk. Ye know, the special ingredient that gives Mother’s Ale its smooth taste and tangy bite? He’ll be glad to hear it and I’m sure there’ll be a fair bit of gold in it for ye on account of the information.”

    The second guard’s smile faded, his blue lips thinning further. “You’re in no position to cut any deals here,” he growled.

    “Ragged John, the brewer?” the first guard said, his eyebrows rising like woolly caterpillars. “Why, I haven’t downed a pint of John’s Mother’s Ale in weeks. I thought he stopped making the stuff.”

    “Oh he’s still in business, but ye won’t be seeing any for a good, long while longer if that milk doesn’t get to him before it spoils. You just tell him I’m here alright? There’ll be gold in it for ye, I promise.”

    The first guard spoke to the second one. “Well I’d hate to think I’ve drunk the last bottle of Mother’s Ale for the year, wouldn’t you, Slagchisel?”

    The second guard looked at Oralius skeptically. He seemed to consider his words for a few moments. “We’ll see,” he finally said. The two guards left them there, disappearing down the passage.

    After they had gone, Rosa looked around at her companions and shrugged. "Well, I suppose this is what I've always dreamed of—crammed into a tiny room surrounded by sweaty, barely clothed men."

    "I apologize for the smell," Korridan said.

    She smiled sweetly back at him. "Oh, it’s not bad, really. Sort of a musky mix between—"

    A loud, ripping gust of flatulence came from Lunk and he cringed, looking apologetic.

    Rosa covered her nose and looked as if she were about to turn green. “Stormwind Brie and sauerkraut.”

    “Sorry,” Lunk said. “Can't hold it in forever all the time.”

    There were moans all around as everyone grasped at bits of clothing to cover their noses and screen out the stench.

    "Now nobody fret for one minute longer,” Oralius said with a hearty grin. “Ragged John will come along to bail us all out shortly. Trust me."

    Gimbo turned to him, flushing crimson. "Trust you? TRUST YOU?" He practically threw himself over Korridan and Mok, trying to reach Oralius.

    Korridan sprang after him, wrapping his arms around his body and holding Gimbo at bay as he clawed madly at the air, fingertips just inches from Oralius's neck. "Come here, you crank!” he snarled. “I'll throttle you until you turn twelve shades of blue!"

    Quietly stepping in front of him, Rosa knelt, took his face in both her hands and looked into his eyes. “Gimbo, love. This is not doing any good for any of us. You really must calm down.”

    He glowered back at her. “Rosa, don't you even think about kissing me to make me back down, because it's not going to work this time! I am going to kill that Dwarf!”

    Lunk crossed his arms in front of his face and turned away. “Please, no kill while Lunk watching, okay?”

    Gimbo turned on him and pulled back a punch. “Oh shut up, you bumbling lard bucket! Do you want to be next?”

    He felt a fist hit the back of his head with a thud and he collapsed, sprawling on the cell floor. Rosa stooped over him with her hands placed on her knees. “Terrible sorry, Alpha, but you were getting a rather out of hand. Please don’t take it personally.”

    “Listen to the lady,” Oralius said, laughing. “That's my kind of woman! Yowza!”     

    Ears ringing, Gimbo waited the for the room to stop spinning enough that he could pick himself up off the floor. Slumping against the back wall, he sat rubbing the base of his skull and glaring at the cold steel bars in front of him.

    “Trust in the light, Gimbo,” Korridan said. “I do not believe that the Light will abandon us here to the mercy of Dark Iron justice. There is yet much more for us to do. This is not the end. If you like, I can teach you meditation techniques to help ease your mind and rest your troubled heart.”

    “You go ahead and meditate,” Gimbo said without looking at him. “I'll just keep stewing right here, if you don’t mind. I'm already an expert at that.”

    Korridan sighed softly. “Very well then.” He leaned back, took up his usual meditative position sitting crossed-legged with his hands cupped in his lap. He closed his eyes.

    For a few minutes, Gimbo watched his serene face framed, by his long, fair locks once flowing, now disheveled and clinging to his skin. There he sat in this dirty, crowded jail cell with nothing to his name but the tunic on his back, drinking in the peace of the Light that always came to him so easily. Gimbo wondered how the Elf could be so blasted cavalier at a time like this.

    Burning with an envy he despised to admit to, he turned away and stared at the cell bars again. Hopelessness stared back at him. Trust in the Light, he repeated to himself. Trust in the Light. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. That's all good and well for a priest, but what is a Gnome of diplomacy and enterprise to trust in when surrounded by liars, assassins, and enemies of every description?

    After a period of brooding silence, he finally turned back to Korridan, his scowl softening. “I'm sorry, Korridan. Please forgive my ungraciousness. I know you were just trying to help and of course I appreciate it—but I just can't think like you do. I'm not much of a man of faith. As an explorer and entrepreneur, I rely on wit and diplomacy to get out of a pinch. Here my wit is useless.” He gave a humorless smile. “My silver tongue couldn't help us this time.”

    Korridan opened his eyes and looked back at him. “Then if your own wits fail you, what can you trust in but the Light?” When Gimbo didn't answer right away, he closed his eyes and resumed his meditative posture. “Something to think on, perhaps.”   

    Gimbo shrugged. “You may be right.” He turned to Lunk. “Lunk, I'm sorry for lashing out at you. You have my world that I won't kill Oralius while you're watching.” He gave Oralius a menacing glare and stabbed a finger at him. “You're still on the hit list.”

    Lunk sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Lunk have much to teach Gnome. You like killing too much.”

    “It's a cryin' shame, isn't it, Lunk?” Oralius said gravely. “He has no understanding at all of our enlightened path.” Folding his hands behind his head, he leaned against the back wall and squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh ye of no faith. Ragged John will be along soon, just ye wait and see. In the meantime, me and Winky are gonna get some shut-eye. See ye in a few.”

    Gimbo prepared to unleash a cutting retort, but immediate, loud snoring coming from Oralius's wide-open mouth confirmed any further words would go blissfully unheeded. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forearms on top of them, muttering to himself about the pros and cons of cramming the Dwarf's gullet with a boot, if only he still had one.

 

    Two hours later, Gimbo's eyes were dry and crusty from staring at the bars of the cell door and he could barely keep them open as sleep weighed heavily on his brow. Korridan still meditated, while the soft snoring of the rest of the party threatened to lull him into prolonged unconsciousness. Even Oralius’s snoring had quieted down after the first hour. He had apparently found a sleeping position easier on his air passages, much to Gimbo's beleaguered relief and everyone else's. Including the cranky, foul-mouthed inmate in the cell next door to them.

    As Gimbo’s lids descended gradually over his eyes, he began to feel his conscious mind slipping...slipping...

    BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

    The noise reverberated throughout the small cell and Gimbo sat bolt upright, his eyes wild and staring straight ahead. Mok spat and cursed loudly in Orcish.

    A Dwarf stood peering through the cell door, his form shadowed against the torchlight from the passage outside. “Well ain't ye a sorry lot,” the figure said, a hint of morbid amusement in his voice.

    As Gimbo's eyes adjusted to the light, he approached the bars and looked out at a bald Dwarf with a leather eye patch covering one of a pair of merry blue eyes. His skin was tanned and weathered and he had a long, brown beard flecked with gray. In his hand he held a heavy metal bar, which he had obviously just used to beat the cell door into oblivion. Gimbo wondered if it were still attached to its hinges.

    Oralius, now wide awake along with the others, leaped to the door and shoved himself against Gimbo for space at the bars, sending him to the floor on his backside. Gimbo cried out. “Ow! Would you quit that?”

    "John, old chum!" Oralius bellowed, shaking the cell with his voice. He looked at Gimbo on the ground with an arched eyebrow and a smug grin. “I told ye he would come! And ye thought I was just crazy, didn't ye? Ha!” He made a wide swatting motion with his arm behind his head. “Not now, Winky!”

    Gimbo twisted a finger in his still-ringing ear. “What?”

    "Oralius,” Ragged John said slowly, his weathered brow compressing into a gridiron of wrinkles as his hands came to rest on his hips. “A rare displeasure as always. What poor, gullible sots have ye dragged into your shenanigans this time?"

    Gimbo stood up, scoffing as he brushed himself off. "Dwarves. I am _not_ a sot! I barely even drink."

    Rosa sauntered up to the bars where Oralius bowed and politely made room for her at the door. “Well, hello there, love. Are you the Dwarf coming valiantly to our rescue?” she asked with a sly smile.

    John's eyebrows rose slightly as he whistled. “Whoo! Now aren't you a sunny sight for sore eyes. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

    She extended her hand through the bars, fingers downwards. “Lady Rosa Carter, Baroness.”

    John gingerly gripped her fingers and kissed her hand. “Tan and dark. You're Gilnean nobility, I can tell. Has anyone ever told you how incredibly arousing your accent is?”  

    Gimbo pushed his way between Oralius and Rosa, squeezing in tactfully next to Rosa but making sure to give Oralius a good shove.

    “My, it's gettin' crowded over here,” John chuckled.

    “Quite,” Gimbo said, straightening out his shirt. “Allow me to introduce myself and my associates. My name is Gimbo Tinkertorque, retired explorer—” Mok cleared his throat loudly, interrupting him. Gimbo glanced back at him, then looked at John. “Er...right. Gimbo Tinkertorque. These are my associates, Rosa Carter, Mok, and Korridan Lorre. The big guy is Lunk. I'm told that you're a man that can help us. Might I entreat for your assistance in our unfortunate predicament?”

    Without answering, John looked over Gimbo's head at Rosa. “I wonder, how does a woman of such class, lineage, and ravishing beauty end up in the company of a pack of criminals?”

    Gimbo stamped his foot. “Oralius is the criminal! We're just innocent victims! The four of us are members of an unaligned private enterprise operation on a mission to kill a dragon and to save a friend. We got roped in with Oralius because he told us that you know a secret passage into the Spire.”

    John's smile darkened as he eyed Oralius. “I may.”

    “Come on, John,” Oralius said. “Stop fooling around. Hurry up and get us out of here, will ye? We got places to be. Ye got the keys, don't ye?”

    John scowled at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Where's me Mother's Milk?”

    “Are ye daft? Forget that for now! Ye got to get us out of here before the magistrate comes for us.”

    “Ye're not going anywhere until I get me milk. I know ye too well, Oralius. If ye can't deliver the goods, then I'm sorry to say ye ain't worth the bribes. Case in point, I just got through talking to a pair of jailers who had the funny idea in their heads that I owed them coin for letting me know ye were imprisoned here. If ye expect me to bail ye out, I expect to get that back and more besides. Bribes don't come cheap around here, ye know."

    Rosa gripped a bar near the top and pressing against it, letting it slip into her cleavage and pull her shirt tight against her chest. "I'm sure I could offer you a bit of something extra to make it worth your while."

    His eyes flitted up her body and back down. “Mmm...yes, I'm sure you could. Unfortunately, lack of female company is not my biggest problem right now."

    Rosa made a pouting face and slid her hand off the bar, letting it fall to her side.

    "Me stills have gone dry. The milk ran out weeks ago and all of me hirelings have been killed by spiders trying to acquire more of it. I'm gettin' too old to go traipsing into lightless caverns myself these days. Also, naturally I don't want to get eaten by spiders. If only I could get the stills going again, I can hire a new batch of foragers and my Mother's Ale will be overflowing from every tankard in the Grim Guzzler once again.”

    “Rest assured we brought your milk, John," Gimbo said. "I'm happy to tell you that Oralius is telling the truth for once. However, I'm sorry to report that the guards took all of our equipment and supplies, including your milk, and impounded our kodo beast a few wards down from here. If you get me out of this cell, I can take you there. I promise you'll have all the milk you need to get those stills booming again in no time.”  

    John eyed him. “Well I don't consider a Gnome's world much better than Oralius’s, but I suppose I gotta pick one of ye while Mother's Ale looks destined to become a distant, tart, dry, malty-smooth memory. I don’t you need to take me there. I know me way to the impound. However...I'll bet Lady Carter would appreciate a little time out of her cell to stretch her pretty legs. I'm sure it won't take much coin to convince the stray guard or two to look the other way while we take a stroll together, eh?”

    Rosa's smile returned. “Ready when you are, love.”

    John held his hand up and let a set of keys fall out, swinging them around on one finger. “These on the other hand, took quite a bit of coin to acquire.”

    Oralius. “John, ye trusted me after all! Didn't I tell ye he was a pal?”

    “Desperation does awful things to a man's coin purse. Try not to gloat.” He unlocked the door, took Rosa's proffered hand as she stepped out of the cell.

    She sidled up to him and slipped her arm into the crook of his. “Shall we?”

    John indicated down the hall. “This way, my dear.”

    Gimbo waited for what seemed like another hour for Oralius and Rosa to return. When they finally did, John carried vials of blood clinking on his belt while he and Rosa talked and laughed, discussing senate politics in Ironforge.

    “Have a nice walk?” Mok said, scowling.

    John finished laughing at a joke of Rosa's and cleared his throat. “Indeed we did. And now it seems the rest of you have earned your freedom. I'll accompany you back to the impound to secure your gear and mount, then we can discuss...secret passages.”

    “So you do know of one.” Gimbo said.

    “Aye. Lady Carter told me the sad tale of your quest and the capture of her feisty Wildhammer friend. I have to say, I was deeply moved. So I've decided to share me secret with ye at no extra charge.” A slick smile on his lips, his eyes roamed up and down Rosa’s lower body.

    “The Light smiles upon you, Ragged John,” Korridan said. “Thank you.”

    “He's all heart,” Gimbo mumbled. “And libido.”

    

    In the impound area, Gimbo hurried towards a desk where a Dark Iron woman sat, head buried in a thick, open book, in which she wrote slowly with a large, black quill. The long hours of imprisonment and the oppressive atmosphere if this whole place had built up in Gimbo a nervous, inexorable compulsion to get out and he was prepared to brook no more delays. He couldn't shake the fear that every minute longer they stayed in Shadowforge City could be marching Hilda one more minute towards death or worse.

    The woman didn't look up as he stopped in front of her desk. “Hello. My associates and I are being released from our wrongful imprisonment and I intend to recover every last piece of gear looted from us.”

    She peered up at him under lids heavy with eye shadow. She wore her black hair in two tightly coiled buns on either side of her head along with a permanent, lopsided sneer on her lips. She looked past him, towards the guard standing at the back of the room. The guard gave her curt nod in response and she returned her attention to Gimbo.

    “Name?” she said. Her voice was a like dry cloak.

    “Gimbo Tinkertorque. I owned an embroidered cloak, a dagger—”

    She put up a hand. “One moment, please.” With plodding steps, she entered the back room and returned with a crate. She hefted Korridan's staff out, set it against a wall, and laid items out on the desk. “One linen tunic. One linen robe. One pair of linen pants.” She thrust her thumb towards the wall. “One ivory staff, jeweled. One—”

    Rosa put one hand on the desk, swung her legs over the top, and strode towards the back room.

    “Oi!” the Dwarf woman yelled, whirling on Rosa, dull red eyes suddenly bright with fury. “Ye can't go back there!”

    Mok pushed past the desk and headed in after Rosa.

    The Dwarf woman was livid, her ashen skin flushing burgundy as she shook her fist after Mok. “Get your green arse out of me storeroom before I clobber ye horny face, ye porridge-eatin' brute!”

    Rosa's cuirass came flying out of the back room, forcing the Dwarf woman to duck as the armor clattered on the stones behind the desk. It was followed immediately by Rosa's gauntlets, greaves, pauldrons, and the rest of her armor. Mok's swords clattered behind them, followed by various articles of clothing and travel supplies.

    “I'll have your heads!” the woman raged. “Guard!”

    “Hey, Millie,” John said.

    She turned to John and he tossed two gold coins towards her. She caught them in midair.

    “Now let my friends be. I think that should cover any inconvenience, wouldn't ye say?” He winked at her. “Make sure their kodo beast is released to the livery stable too, if you please. My expense.”

    Millie held the coins in her open palm, then scowled at the guard. He shrugged in response and set about studying a spot on the wall across from him.

    Gimbo smiled to himself as he watched items continue piling up behind Millie's desk. “Problem Solvers...I love you all.”

 

    The sounds of tankards clashing together in toast and uproarious laughter filled the air of the Grim Guzzler against the backdrop of jaunty melody played by a band of Goblins on mandolin, flute, cello, and tambourines. Filled with citizens, soldiers, travelers, and even a senator or two, the tavern seemed to serve as the classless melting pot of the city. Gimbo and company lounged at large corner table. Gimbo nursed a modest tankard of pale beer while next to him, Ragged John sat with Rosa, his arm around her waist. A spread of drinks lay out before the two, most of them half-empty.

    John waved at a barmaid as she approached the table, carrying another drink. “Over here! Yes, that one’s ours too.” His cheeks were flushed red and he clearly teetered on the edge of drunkenness.

    The Dark Iron woman placed the drink in front of John and he slid it over to Rosa. Flames licked up from the rim of the tankard. He winked at her. “Try this one, my lovely baroness.”

    Rosa looked at the flaming alcohol with a gleeful smile. “Ooh, it has fire.”

    “It’s called a Sulfuron Slammer. It burns as hot going down as my lips burn for the taste of yours.”

    Rosa laughed and tickled him under his chin. “Oh, you are a very bad one.”

    Gimbo rolled his eyes in disgust. He wasn’t sure how much more time they needed to waste indulging this idiot, who seemed content flirting and chatting on and on about empty-headed subjects while Hilda languished somewhere high above. Still, he acknowledged that his harried group needed this brief respite. They would be no good to Hilda exhausted and in poor spirits.

    Rosa closed a hinged lid on the tankard to smother the flames, then tipped her head back to drink it.

    John chuckled, slid his hand onto her leg and squeezed. Without missing a gulp, she jerked her knee up and crushed his hand against the bottom of the table.

    The Dwarf grimaced and quietly returned his hand to her waist, clearing his throat. He lifted one of the half-empty drinks to his lips and his eyes shifted to Oralius over the top of his tankard as he took a long gulp.

    He finished and set the drink down, smacking loudly and wiping the froth off of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyway, as I was tellin’ ye, that old codger in the market district got me thinking on the old days, that's for sure. What about ye, Oralius? Are ye still with Lady Morgan and her militia? How's the ol' girl doing these days?”

    Oralius guffawed inappropriately loudly, then his face grew serious. “Naw, I up and quit that. Lunk here showed me a better way to live, through non-violence.”

    “Really? Yeah, I was never really too fond of the soldier's life either. Never really were much of one anyhow. That's why I decided to become a world-famous brewer instead.”

    “Ye mean ye deserted to become a world-famous brewer.”

    “Exactly.”

    “I'm sure ol' Morgan really hates Dwarves by now.”

    They burst out laughing together.

    After a few moments of mirth, John, still chuckling, put out a hand to quiet Oralius. When Oralius continued cackling maniacally, John brought his fist down on the table with a thud. Oralius became immediately quiet. "Pardon me. Ye were saying?"

    “Yes, I believe I was gettin’ ready to tell Lady Carter and her friends here about the day Marshal Windsor and I fought off fifty—I mean, two hundred Blackrock Orcs. I've told ye that one, haven't I, Oralius?”

    Oralius's eyes grew wide. “Ooh! That tale never gets old!” He beamed at the Problem Solvers. “You're all going to love this one. It's a riot.”

    Mok crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “Two hundred Orcs? Impossible.”

    Rosa huddled closer to John, putting her hands on his shoulder and interlacing her fingers. “Two against two hundred, hm? This should be a rather grand tale. Please, do tell, love.”

    “I'll bet that number gets bigger and bigger with each telling,” Gimbo said dryly.

    “You bet it does,” Oralius said. “That's what makes it so great!”

    John tapped his chin. “Where to begin? We were deep inside Blackrock Spire, Windsor and I. It was an infiltration mission for Stormwind. I remember him being more ornery than usual that day and believe me, for Windsor that's saying something! Then the orcs attacked, roaring and clanging their steel as they charged. Five hundred of them. They came at Windsor in waves, ten at a time. I, of course, did the smart thing at that point and slipped into the shadows. Windsor started yowling and raging, laying into those curs with his great hammer Ironfoe, blood and guts flying everywhere—”

    “Wait,” Gimbo said. “You mean you _didn’t_ fight any Orcs?”

    John's flushed face grew even redder and he slammed his tankard onto the table. “Don't interrupt a Dwarf's story-tellin'. It's uncouth! Do ye have no manners at all?”

    Korridan leaned close to Gimbo. “I suggest we indulge him a little longer. If he takes offense, he may to decide to keep the location of that secret passage to himself.”

    Rosa glanced at Gimbo with a look of empathy, nodding and surreptitiously indicating to John with a thrust of her chin.

    Gimbo got the message and gave a long sigh. “Fine. I'm sorry, John. Please continue.”

    John gave him a sidelong glare. “Thank you. Now where was I? Oh yes, Windsor covered in Orc guts...”

    Resting his chin in his hand and slowly sipping his beer, Gimbo listened to John drone on, not caring to listen to a word and hoping against hope it would all be mercifully over soon.

    After a time, there was an uncharacteristic silence and Gimbo looked up quizzically at John. His face was solemn as he looked into his empty tankard. “A few days after the Dark Irons dragged, 'ol Windsor off to the dungeons, he managed to escape with the help of a band of adventurers or some such. Then, I heard he ran off to Stormwind City to crack the Black Dragonflight’s conspiracy at the royal court. Supposedly, he found information proving it all while he was still imprisoned. I heard something bad went down in Stormwind around the time he would have been in the city. I hope 'ol Windsor made it out okay and managed to settle down somewhere quiet. I might go try to look him up around there one of these days. If I ever get up that way.”

    Gimbo watched him for a few moments to make sure he was done, then adjusted his spectacles on his nose and clapped his hands onto the table. “Well, John, that was a deeply moving story, but I think it's high time we learn about that...” He looked around, wary of eavesdroppers, then met John's eyes. “About that secret passage of yours.”

    John swiftly held up a hand. “Keep your voice down! I secret's not a secret when ye announce it to a room full of people like the town crier at midnight.” He leaned in close. “Aright, if yer dead set on getting' into the Spire, here's how ye do it.

    "First, ye head out the back door of the Grim Guzzler here, take a right, down through the residential districts, keeping to the main avenue till you reach the great foundry. It's the industrial heart of the city, built over the lava flows that head out from the depths of the mountain’s core. Ye can't miss it. If you do miss it, you’ll probably end up in the lava. Hug the wall as it loops around the lava flows and you'll find yourself at the mausoleum housing the tombs of the ancient Dark Iron forefathers. The tombs lie just before the entrance to the Lyceum and the royal district.

    “Once inside the mausoleum, find Doom'rel's and Gloom'rel's tombs. Don’t wake the spirits up. Ye’ll be very sorry. Between the tombs, there's a passage blocked with a heavy iron grating sitting on hinges. They keep it chained closed at all times, so you'll probably have to break the lock to get in. Just don't let the caretakers see ye. This passage used to lead into a wider complex of tombs before the lava got in there a few decades ago. The lava's diverted its path since then, so the going's clear till you get to where the roof's collapsed in on itself.

    “Now it may look like a complete ruin there, but if ye search around the rumble, ye'll find a gap there—not much wider than me—between a broken pillar and half-buried iron support structure. I’m wider than I was back then, but if it hasn't collapsed any further since, ye can squeeze right in through that hole and find the long stairs up waiting for ye on the other side. In days long past, this was a service staircase to the upper levels of the Spire for construction crews, back when they were still digging rooms and passages out up there. So pretty darn old. When ye climb to the top, it'll come right out into an old mead hall the Blackrocks call the Rookery. The place is filled with black dragon eggs, but ye don't need to worry as long as ye don't go anywhere near them. I mean it. Don't ye go near those eggs under any circumstances. Ever."

    John rose shakily to his feet, tankard in hand. “Now that my secret's out of the bag, I hope ye folks don't mind me while I stay here at the bar and get truly and dearly smashed-out drunk. I've had a long day.”

    As Gimbo and company stood, John walked to Rosa and took her hand carefully in his. “Your company tonight has been a pleasure, Lady Carter. Ye know how to make an old Dwarf happy.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it once again, then he dropped it, swiftly groping a handy portion of her rear end as he turned, walking away towards the bar.

    He called to the well-dressed leper Gnome with bulbous, pale eyes and terribly pockmarked green skin behind the bar. "Hey Plugger! Pour me another pint, will ye?"

    Rosa put her hands on her hips and grinned after him. “Quite the bold one-eyed blighter, now isn't he?”

    “Quite,” Gimbo said.

    Her smile crept upward, her visage taking on a feral glow. “But...if he ever tries that again, I'll chomp his hand off and shove it through his eye socket.”

    Gimbo crossed his arms over his chest. “I'd pay to see that.”

 

* * * *

 

    “Here, ye are,” Oralius said, indicating towards a pile of partially caved in stonework at the end of a charred corridor. “The secret passage.” Through the labyrinthine halls and streets of the Depths, Gimbo and company had arrived here without much incident, which Gimbo thanked the Light for. It only took a few coins to convince the keeper of the tombs to take a good, long break at the Grim Guzzler, leaving them alone to break into these old corridors. A blanket of hardened lava lay across the passage ahead, entering through the gaping ruin of a collapsed wall and continuing through the far wall, where it disappeared into a dark tunnel. Gimbo could only guess what snaking path it had pushed through the softer rock before joining with some distant pool of magma.

    Branching behind Gimbo and company into a dozen or more recesses where stone coffins lay, these corridors had been long out of use. By the thick layer of dust that covered the floor undisturbed, it was clear that not even the caretaker had bothered to come this way in months, maybe years.

    Gimbo adjusted his belt and settled his dagger. “Alright, Problem Solvers. Forward once more into the breach.” He turned to Lunk. “Lunk, can I ask you a favor?”

    The ogre smiled. “Sure. What can Lunk do for you?”

    “Please go to the livery stable and take Dadanga out of the city. He doesn’t have much tolerance for the heat in this mountain furnace and he needs wide open space to graze. Make sure he gets plenty of fresh air and good company, will you? Please take good care of him until we get back.”

    “Sure, Lunk glad to help.”

    “And if Oralius decides to tag along with you, will you make sure he stays out of the way and doesn't cause a second Great Sundering or something?”

    Lunk nodded. “Don't worry, Lunk make sure Oralius be good Dwarf.”

    “Ye won't get any argument outta me.” Oralius said, putting his hands up. “I don't want to get sat on.”

    Korridan retrieved potions of invisibility that Gimbo had asked him to prepare earlier and began handing them out among the group. “Keep in mind,” he said, “the powerful reagents within this mixture will cause our bodies to become out of phase with the material plane and shift into a space occupying a boundary zone between here and the nether. However, any vigorous interactions with persons or objects in the material plane may cause us to become temporarily visible and may significantly reduce the duration of the effect. So please refrain from acts of unnecessary violence.” A slight smile appeared on his lips. “Rosa, try to keep your Hairy One on a tight leash up there. I know how much she enjoys vigorous interactions and unnecessary violence.”

    She scoffed in mock indignation. “Oh get on with you. Really.”

    Gimbo, Mok, Rosa, and Korridan each lit torches and Gimbo led the way as they crossed the old lava flow and reached the pile of broken stonework. They picked a path through the rubble, around to the left of the fallen chunks of ceiling until they came upon the broken pillar John had talked about. Sure enough, there was a gap between it and one of the passage's bent supports, just wide enough for a person to slip through.

    Oralius suddenly stared at the air in front of him. “What? But Winky! Oh...I see. Fine then! If you like them better than me, then go. Just go. I don't even care!” He fell down onto his knees as he began to sob, his face buried in his hands. Gimbo rolled his eyes and continued on through the gap as the others followed on his heels.

    Upon reaching the other side, his torchlight illuminated a narrow, arched tunnel faced with square stones. The path ahead lead to a staircase that spiraled steeply upward around a massive central pillar, the stone steps stretching infinitely into inky darkness. Masses of ancient cobwebs hung like gossamer banners from the stonework above, undisturbed in the stale, cold air. Setting his foot against the first step, Gimbo pushed against it to test its stability. The stone felt solid under his boot.      

    The Problem Solvers ascended the steps in close, single file, beginning their long, lonely climb into the heart of enemy territory.

 

    Deep inside the Upper Spire, General Drakk'sul, son and successor to the late General Drakkisath tilted his horned head and grinned at the feisty Dwarf female inside her cage that hung from the ceiling by a chain. He drank in the hatred flashing in her wild, blue eyes as she stared him down.

    She had come to the mountain tangled in rope and in a very bad mood, unabated even until now. It was this unquenchable, rebellious spirit that convinced him not to kill her outright. Reportedly, this one had been involved in the slaying of a number of Blackrock warriors. They cried for blood and they would have their justice soon—after he had satisfied his curiosity. Until her cacophonous, fire-spitting arrival at the Spire Throne, he'd never met a Wildhammer Dwarf before. Were they all this charming?

    “Defiant to the last, I see,” Drakk'sul said. “You have been quite an entertaining pet these past three days. Sadly, I must soon hand you over to the executioners before a riot breaks out. The Orcs are crying out for your blood since word reached us of your slaughter of their kind in the Redridge Mountains. The last thing I want to deal with today is a pack of surly, rebellious Blackrocks. However...a stay of execution could be worthwhile if you were to pledge your allegiance to my master Nefarian. I'm sure we could find a place for your brand of fighting spirit among the ranks of his servants. I would be happy to put in a personal word of recommendation for you.”

    Hilda spat through the bars, onto the floor. “I'd be happy to watch ye choke on yer own forked tongue, ye clag-tail lizard. I'll be the one to tear it out and feed it to ye.”

    Drakk'sul chuckled, regarding her with almost genuine sympathy. “Oh, I see. You still expect your powerful friends to come charging in to your rescue at the twilight hour.”

    She returned his smile with an acidic one of her own. “Rosa will come. I hope yer ready to leave this world with a boot up yer arse and an axe through yer manky gut.”

    He shifted his weight on the massive spear he held in his hands and leaned toward the cage. “You know, it's your colorful, provincial language that I think I may miss the most about you. Your trial and most assured execution will commence in less than two hours. I would suggest that you make peace with your elemental spirits sooner rather than later.”

    He heard a sniff in the corner of the room and turned his eyes upon Umbrion, huddled in human guise upon a stone chair cast in shadow by the wall. He eyed Hilda with palpable contempt. Drakk'sul put a hand on a fore-hip and crossed a hind leg in front of the other. “Umbrion, my boy. You don't like my pet, I take it.”

    Umbrion glanced at him and looked away, scoffing. “Perhaps you wouldn't be so cavalier if you were the one doomed to face my father's wrath.”

    “Come now, my boy. Why such talk? This one will die soon and surely your Blackrock servitors have taken care of the rest of your problem by now. Our healers seem to have patched you up quite well. Why don’t you come out of that corner and have a drink with me? We’ll raise a toast to your future lordship of the Spire.” He motioned to a lower-ranking Dragonspawn, who brought over a tray carrying two tankards. “When you decide to take make your move, you know you can count on the full strength of the battalions under my command to support you.” He took a tankard from the tray, smiled and raised it toward Umbrion. “Eh? What do you say?” The Dragonspawn carrying the tray approached Umbrion and offered him the remaining tankard.

    Umbrion waved him off. “No. I cannot rest easy until she is dead and word comes from Stonewatch Keep that her comrades have suffered the same demise. When their bodies are sent to me, I will present their heads personally to my father.” His voice became quieter and more solemn. “Mother would expect nothing less.”

    Umbrion flashed a glare at him. “I couldn't! I told you already—she watched me like a hawk the entire way here, hugging the rope with her legs and one elbow while she kept an arrow strung, threatening to shoot me in the throat if tried to drop her. I have seen her skills before. It would not have been wise to doubt her aim.”    

    Drakk'sul shrugged. “As you say, then. Stay in that corner if you like, but you're missing out on some excellent Dark Iron brew. Mother's Ale, I think they call it.” He took a tankard from the tray, brought it to his lips and tipped it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback. I love lots of critique!


	7. Chapter 7

     Two thousand, one hundred and fifty-six? Ten thousand? At some point within the last hour, Gimbo had lost count of how many steps he had climbed. His knees were on fire and the air was far too cold. He wrapped his cloak tighter around his body to stave off the chill. This was worse than ascending the fabled “thousand tiers” of Jintha'Alor.

    "Alright, Problem Solvers," he finally said, wiping the sweat from his brow, "let's take five. It's time to solve the exhaustion problem."

    Rosa spoke from behind him. "We just had five, fifteen minutes ago, love.”

    He stopped and squinted at her in the torchlight. "Really? I could have sworn it was at least forty minutes ago."

    She gave a casual shrug and glanced upward. "Minus twenty-five."

    Gimbo murmured to himself, counting quickly on one hand. "You're sure about that math?"

    "Positive, dear."

    He shook his head. "Look, forget the mathematics. My joints are freezing up like a rusty mechanostrider. I simply have to sit down. Just for a minute or two, alright?”

    “I could carry you on my shoulders, if you like.”

    “No, I wouldn't push that kind of burden on you, Rosa. There's barely enough room for you to stand up straight in here as it. This passage was build for, Dwarves, not Gilneans.”

    She smiled. “I could carry you in my arms like a little baby.”

    He narrowed his eyes at her. “I do still have a _ shred _ of dignity left, thank you kindly.”

    Korridan spoke up from the back of the line, eyes glowing green in the darkness. “Gimbo, if the mountain wearies you, I will be happy to invoke a power word to aid in your body's recovery.”

    He smiled and cleared his throat. “Thanks, Korridan, but I don't think that's a good idea just now. This is a very small space. Let me just rest five minutes and I'll be as good as new to go, I'm sure.”

    “Or perhaps fifteen minutes,” Mok grumbled behind Rosa, eyeing the ceiling.

    “Hey, I may be fit and limber for my age, but I'm not as healthy as I used to be, Mok. Thirty years of delving into a thousand tombs, dungeons, and ruins on behalf of the Explorer's League takes a sad toll on a man's body. Especially the joints.”

    “The Light will restore your strength,” Korridan said. “Please, allow me.” He lifted a hand towards him and before Gimbo could stop him, he boomed out, “FORTITUDE!”

    As the word reverberated violently through the stairwell, Gimbo tucked his head and hugged his ears with his elbows. He heard nothing but shrill goings ringing in his ears and saw nothing but stars before his eyes as he reeled from the vertigo.

    When the vertigo had faded, he lowered his arms and found himself lying on his back on the cold steps. He sat up and saw Rosa floored, covering her head with her arms while Korridan sat next to her against the wall, hands pressed over his own long, tapering ears.

    The only one left standing was Mok, also the only one to keep a torch clutched in his hand. He stood looking straight ahead, his thick lower lip twitching over his tusks and his temples throbbing.

    Ears still ringing, Gimbo stood and stepped over to Rosa. “Can I help you up?”

    “No, dear. I think I'll just stay down here a mo while I finish peeing myself, if you don't mind, love,” came the muffled reply.

    Korridan looked up. "I shall remain seated for a few moments yet myself. I uh...do apologize. I did not consider...well, I was of the mind that time was of the essence.”

    Gimbo looked down at his arms and open and closed his fists as he felt the Light's fortitude coursing through his body. _ Impressive, _ he mused. He looked at Korridan. “No need to apologize. I do feel rather invigorated now. I’d dare say my joints have never felt better. But um...we'll take ten, just the same.”

    Still scowling straight ahead, Mok sat down wordlessly.

    “Thank you, love,” came Rosa's muffled voice again.

    Gimbo relaxed, and as the minutes passed, his mind began to swim with thoughts of home. He imagined relaxing under the shade of his veranda in the sweltering, tropical heat of Stranglethorn Vale with Bibby huddled up sweetly next to him, steaming cups of tea in their hands as they watched the giant orange sun sinking into the South Sea upon the horizon. If these happy visions were a side effect of the Light's fortitude, he decided he should ask Korridan to use that power word more often. In less enclosed places. Maybe this fortitude could even come in handy with Bibby when he got back.

    He glanced at his fellows. Korridan had moved next to Rosa and they conversed quietly about the intricacies of meditation and spiritual contemplation. This subject always interested Rosa, Korridan having been instrumental in her healing after she had come to the Temple of the Light in Stormwind seeking redemption from her past. Though she was far from an upright disciple of the Light, which she would be the first to admit, the prayer book Korridan had given her during that time remained one of her most prized possessions.

    Mok remained in place, as sullen as ever.

    As the hands on his pocket watch ticked passed the eight minute mark, Gimbo began to hear voices. He assumed it was his imagination at first, recollection of voices from home until their gravely tone snapped him out of his reverie. Orc voices, higher up the stairs and approaching.

    He looked at Mok who had already snuffed out his torch.

    “Problem Solvers, code twenty-six,” Gimbo whispered. He uncorked his invisibility potion and drank it down while Rosa, Mok, and Korridan followed suit. 

At first Gimbo didn’t notice any change, then his vision began to become hazy. He looked down at his hands and discovered that he could see through them. His companions, the stairs, and the surrounding walls distorted, then took on a shimmering appearance with blurred outlines, objects becoming more solid towards the center. Gimbo wondered if perhaps he had gone too far and crossed into the Nether. 

    He watched as his companions became clearer, and soon they were plainly visible, fully entering into the barrier zone with him. The world around them continued to shimmer as if looking at a reflection on the surface of a pond. He squinted at the stairs at his feet. His view was somewhat hazy, but he could still make out enough to discern finer details of the world with some practice. He glanced at his hands, which had become solid again. 

    Torchlight approached around the bend of the stairwell, soon revealing the forms of two Blackrock Orcs descending the steps. “I'm telling you, Mo'gash, I heard something down here,” one Orc said. He looked unusually fat for a Blackrock warrior and he walked with a stoop in his shoulders, puffing with each step.

    “I believe you heard something, Kurok,” his companion said. “I just think it was the growling of your ponderous belly.” He was a thick-necked fellow with a chest covered in piercings the top half of one pointed ear missing. The shimmering haze surrounding his form made the metal rings and studs in his skin sparkle like tinsel.

    “Don’t you think my belly and I have been acquainted long enough that I would know the difference?” Kurok growled. “I heard a loud voice in the darkness, booming like distant thunder. Something is going on down here and it's nothing good, I tell you.”

    Mo'gash glanced back the way they had come. “Not a soul has been seen traveling this tunnel in years. I hear it's completely caved in at the bottom.” He sniffed. “I can't say I've ever been paranoid enough to check for myself.”

    “Your complacency is just the kind of attitude that puts us at risk of another Dark Iron incursion. What if they are sending spies through this tunnel?”

    As the two Orcs approached within a few feet, Gimbo motioned adamantly for everyone to move back. They backed down the tunnel slowly in unison, hugging the walls for support.

    “Then I’m sure we would have smelled the stink of them by now,” Mo'gash said. “Besides, they would be fools to try anything now. Their fiery god is banished back to his elemental plane and the Dark Horde is at the peak of its power. Any day now Warchief Blackhand with give the order to invade the Depths and cleanse the Dark Iron filth from this mountain once and for all.”

    “If you’re so sure that the Dark Irons are nothing more than beaten dogs cowering in their pens, then feel free to head back to the barracks. If it falls upon me alone to be the last line of defense against a full-scale Dark Iron invasion that no one cared to see coming, then I will bear that burden with honor and vigilance.”

    Mo'gash stopped and gave a derisive snort. “If you want to be a line of defense, then why don’t you just stand in this tunnel and block it with your girth? That would be an impenetrable wall if I ever saw one.”

    Gimbo had to lean back as Kurok kept walking, his protruding belly bobbing within inches of Gimbo’s nose. He swore he could smell the Orc’ rancid bellybutton lint from here. He felt for the next step behind him and carefully dropped his foot, only to meet air. Stumbling backwards, he flailed his arms to keep balance but his other foot slipped and his boots scraped and clattered against the steps as he fell back against Korridan’s midriff, causing the Elf to let out an explosive, “Ungh!”

    The two Orcs stared into the space before them. “They’re concealed in shadows!” Kurok said. “Magic—it has to be!” Both Orcs drew axes.

    Korridan’s hand blazed and two rapid blasts of light smote Kurok. Dropping his torch, Kurok covered his face with a hand as he gave an agonized cry.

    Gimbo slashed him across the knees with his dagger and Kurok’s legs buckled. He fell forward, forcing Gimbo to dive onto his stomach as the Orc sailed over him.

    Korridan and Rosa flattened themselves against the walls to avoid Kurok’s tumbling bulk, but Mok tried to dodge aside an instant too late and Kurok caught him in the side, knocking him off his feet. They tumbled down the steps together, around a bend in the staircase and out of sight, Mok roaring curses.

    Gimbo’s saw his hazy world flicker, then sharply fluctuate. He temporarily lost sight of his companions as Mo’gash’s form came into sharp focus. The Orc immediately looked straight at him. Gimbo’s mind raced. _ Cogs! _ He was visible.

    As Mo’gash lunged towards him, the haze rapidly reformed before Gimbo’s eyes. _ Thank the Light! _ He was invisible again. Wasn’t he?

    Mo’gash swung for Gimbo’s neck and he ducked. The Orc’s axe struck the stone wall above Gimbo’s head as he dodged to the side and flattened himself against the opposite wall. As Rosa dashed passed Gimbo to intercept Mo'gash, raising her axe above her head, the Orc’s head twitched towards her. His ears seemed to perk for a split second before he turned his axe to meet hers, expertly blocking her strike, steel against steel.

    Rosa pressed forward, grinding her blade against his. “Top axmanship, boyo,” she said. “I dare say you’ve got the senses of a Worgen.” She pushed him off and he swung at her, missing. She dodged past him to strike from behind, but he anticipated and whirled to meet her, his steel clashing with hers once again.

    Gimbo took advantage while Mo’gash’s back was turned and rushed at him with his dagger. The sole of Mo’gash’s boot filled his view, striking him in the face. Gimbo’s vision blackened and he saw stars. The next thing he was aware of, he was on his belly and sliding backwards down the stairs. Clawing at the steps in front of him and pushing with his feet to brace them against the steps behind him, he managed to slow and stop his momentum.

    He looked up to find Mo’gash’s headless body tumbling down the spiraling staircase towards him. “Great Magni’s beard!” he rolled aside and the body continued tumbling past him, out of sight into the darkness. Now in a sitting position, he looked back up the spiral to see Mo’gash’s head bouncing down the steps after his body.

    “Ah!” He cringed and flattened himself against the wall as it bounced past him. He looked up the stairs again to find Mok standing across from Rosa a few steps above the point where Mo’gash had been. Gimbo frowned in puzzlement. When had he gotten up there?

    “Mok,” he called. “Good job. Where’s the other guy?”

    “Dead below,” he answered.

    “What did I miss up there?”

    “It was quite a lovely bit of trickery,” Rosa said. “Mok moved right through the blighter’s body like it was made of smoke and hit him from behind him while I kept him distracted with my devastating good looks and unsurpassed axmanship.”

    “I’m sure you did.” Gimbo rested against the cold, stone wall at his back, taking a few moments to steady his breathing before standing up and starting towards his companions at a brisk pace. “Bravo then. Let’s get going before someone notices these two soldiers haven’t reported back in.”

    “I agree haste is in order,” Korridan said. “The potions I prepared were powerful, but the boundary zone between the mortal plane and the nether is quite fragile. This episode has surely reduced the time that we may remain concealed. I would estimate we have two hours left at the most.”

    Gimbo halted in front of him. “Two hours? You’re kidding. You mean you’re telling me we’ve delved into the black heart of hostile territory and you expect us to get to Hilda, _ and _ make it back out, undetected in less than two hours?”

    “I explained to you the risks of this plan before we started. Afterwards, I believe that you said it’s—”

    Gimbo sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I said it’s the best crazy plan we got, I know.” He jogged up the steps, passed Korridan. “Why are we standing around talking then? Let’s make that haste that’s in order. Code four, everyone. Pronto!”

    They followed the path of the spiraling steps another several hundred feet until coming upon a heavy iron door, standing open as bright, flickering light streamed into the stairwell, piercing the darkness. Stepping into the light, Gimbo shielded his eyes with his forearm against the overwhelming flood of brightness assaulting his retinas. He imagined he understood acutely now why bats preferred _ not _ to fly in daylight.

     After his eyes had some time to adjust, he lowered his arm and saw that the massive, torch-lit room before him had a high ceiling from which two long-disused chandeliers hung by thick, rusting chains. A balcony ran the entire circumference of the room above. Before him, surrounding the bases of the room’s six massive support pillars and much of the space between them, spiked black dragon eggs littered the floor.

    In his youth, Gimbo had poured over the maps and floor plans of the Spire complex from before the time of the First War. He wasn’t sure how much it had changed since the pillaging and destruction wrought during the Blackrock invasion, but he had a feeling his finding his way through these crumbling halls was going to be tricky. “Alright...if memory serves, there are two exits to this room,” he said in a hushed tone, eyes warily searching the balcony for any sign of guards. “The one we need to take should be somewhere along the balcony and it leads into the western wing of the complex.” He scratched the top of his head and wrinkled his mustache as he searched the room. “We need to find the ramp. Anyone seen a ramp?”

    “There, on the far side,” Mok said, pointing.

    Gimbo followed where Mok indicated until he finally spotted the ramp—or what was left of it. Most of the structure was half-collapsed and surrounded by rubble. He saw what obstructed the path to the base of the ramp and his heart sank. “Cogs. Who decided to lay a clutch of eggs in front of it?”

    “Oh I’m sure we could skirt around the buggers,” Rosa said. “There aren’t a terrible lot of them, really.”

    Through the haze separating him from the mortal plane, Gimbo tried to make out the extent of the clutch. “I count...two dozen at the ramp and at least a hundred more between here and there.”

    She shrugged and smiled at him. “You only live once?”

    “Right...and remind me how that saying ends? I’m in favor of continuing to live that one life I’ve got. But maybe that’s just me.”

    “Then it's a good thing you're a nimble-footed blighter.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Off you go now. Show us the way, love.”

    Gimbo looked ahead, noting that the path around the edge of the room to the right looked somewhat less cluttered with eggs, most of the way to the clutch hugging the base of the broken ramp. He took that path, hugging the wall as he led the way across the Rookery floor.

    Near the halfway point, several smaller clutches merged into each other and extended almost up to the wall, leaving only a bare few feet of room to pass. Gimbo slowed as he neared the eggs, trying his best to sink into the wall behind him as he inched along it. The light of the torches shown through the eggs, illuminating the shapes of the tiny whelps coiled inside them.

    As he passed the clutch, Gimbo halted at the sight of movement within one of the eggs. He looked through the translucent shell, seeing the shimmering outline of the developing whelp inside. Its head rose and its wings partially unfolded, pushing against the inner edge of the leathery shell before the whelp settled back into its coiled position.

    “Steady, friends,” Gimbo said to himself as much as to his companions. “Rosa, you’re right behind me aren’t you?”

    “Yes, we’re all with you,” she answered. “Soft-footed as mice, love.”

    Wiping the sweat from his brow, Gimbo began creeping forward again, wary even of any unnecessary casting of his shadow upon the clutch. He knew too well that unhatched whelps in the most advanced stage of development were very sensitive to light and vibration, often sensing approaching danger and hatching prematurely to defend themselves. It was a testament to the resilience of dragons. Also, the source of tales of the horrible deaths of ignorant interlopers. “Don’t disturb the grave mounds in Zul’Farrak, don’t disturb the grave mounds in Zul’Farrak,” he repeated to himself.   
    Reaching the other side of the clutch without incident, Gimbo stepped into something that crunched under his boots. He looked down and found himself standing on a half-crushed skull. Amid the dry shells of hatched eggs, bones and partial skeletons lay scattered across the floor. Humanoid skeletons.

    The Problem Solvers stared out over the grim grave site as they continued following the wall, picking their way carefully over and around the bones and the weapons and armor that lay entombed with them. Korridan murmured a blessing for the dead as he made hand motions over the boneyard.

    Gimbo came upon one skeleton that caught his attention. It looked mostly intact, clad in the remains of a suit of plate armor. The slack jaw of the skull lay wide open and crooked in a way that appeared almost if the unfortunate soul were laughing in death. Within its arms, it cradled the skeleton of a bird. The bird was missing its head and its wings and legs were tucked in at its sides...like a fowl bought at market.

    Mok passed the skeleton and grunted. “He seems to have feasted well before his death.”

    Gimbo preferred not to expend any more time speculating on the circumstances of mass slaughter in a place like this. The ramp lay just ahead.

    Searching for a way to skirt the eggs massed in front of it the ramp, he eventually spotted a gap. It was small but possibly wide enough to safely walk through. “This way,” he said.

    Approaching the gap, he paused for a moment to steel himself, then carefully walked between the eggs as he watched for movement within them. On the other side, the ramp sloped steeply towards the balcony. Along the edges of the collapsed sections, more eggs clustered. He shook his head. “Cogs, you got to be kidding me. They go all the way up!”

    “You can do it, Alpha,” Rosa said, leaning close to his ear. “We trust you to see us through.”

    Mok looked up and grumbled, “I don’t know if I would go that far—”

    Rosa jabbed him in the side, cutting him short. “Hush, you! Were you planning on volunteering to lead the way, hm?”

    He coughed and looked the other way.

    She nudged Gimbo gently forward. “Go on, love. Once more into the breach and all that, eh?”

    He smiled. “Once more into the breach.”

    The group skirted eggs on the way up the ramp until they reached a point where half the width had collapsed. The eggs along the edge of the precipice left barely three feet between them and the adjacent wall. Gimbo turned to the side and began to inch into the narrow space along the wall, his nose passing within inches of the spikes curving up from the eggs’ thick shells. Movement stirred within several of the eggs as he passed them, causing sweat to begin beading on his brow again. Behind him there was a cracking sound and froze.

    One of the eggs down the line was rattling, the whelp inside it kicking against the inside of the shell with its hind legs. The movement spread to other eggs as a dozen whelps began to stir. “Alright, faster,” Gimbo said. “Let’s move!”

    They group inched madly through the space as the eggs continued rattling, then some began to crack. Gimbo’s heart hammered in his chest. “Problem Solvers, code one! Get away! Far a way! Go, go, go!” As they broke into a dead run, the top of the ramp lay within reach. Just a few more feet to go.

    They cleared the last of the eggs and reached the top of the ramp, fleeing across the balcony towards a torch-lit passage exiting the room. As he entered the passage ahead of Rosa, Gimbo glance back the way he’d come, spotting a whelp’s snout pushing out of one of the eggs. He shuddered with a mixture of relief and dread as he raced out of the Rookery.

    Leaving the passage beyond the Rookery and emerging into a vast chamber with a vaulted ceiling, Gimbo stopped short, eyes wide, and flattened himself against the closest wall. The rest of his company stumbled out of the passage behind him and immediately joined him against the wall. Orcs filled chamber before them, standing in ranks spanning nearly wall-to-wall, two hundred or more in number. They performed coordinated maneuvers with spears, axes, and sword and shield as burly commanders paced in front of the ranks, shouting orders and surveying the troops with sharp, appraising glares.

    Though invisible, Gimbo felt as if he were completely naked in room laced with shards of glass. He swore he could feel the Orcs’ collective body heat from where he stood cringing. “Problem Solvers, stick to the walls and hang right,” he whispered. “Quietly. We need to get into the passages that circumvent the stadium.” He thrust his chin towards the far end of the vaulted chamber where two tall, parallel flights of steps ascended to an even larger chamber lined with columns. The Blackrock Stadium.

    Being careful not to make any undue noise, the group shuffled along the wall until they reached the towering steps of the stadium. In a nearby corner, a pack of dire wolves rested on a section of the stone floor strew with straw bedding. One giant wolf lifted its shaggy head as Gimbo passed by. It sniffed the air, then its lips slowly pulled back from its massive, protruding fangs as a low growl began deep in its throat.

    “Keep going, don’t stop!” Gimbo hissed. He ushered the others ahead of him, wordlessly urging them to move faster with the help of frantic hand gestures.

    The dire wolf rose to its feet as the Problem Solvers quickly ascended the steps towards the stadium. Its growling intensified, ears flattened as it crept to the foot of the steps, obviously picking up on their scent. Appearing at the top of the steps, an Orc dressed studded leather armor began to descend, carrying a basket full of raw meat in his thick arms. A coiled whip hung from his belt.

    The wolf’s ears lifted from its skull and it moved forward at the sight of its handler approaching. It sniffed excitedly, the scent of fresh meat apparently overpowering its hunter instincts. The Problem Solvers halted and gave the Orc as wide a berth as possible to let him through. Gimbo held his breath as the Orc passed close enough that he could make out the scars of several deep bite wounds in his left shoulder. 

    The scarred Orc passed them without detecting a hint of their presence, grunting under the weight of the load in his arms. As it’s handler reached the bottom of the steps, the wolf awaited eagerly to receive his portion.

    Setting the basket down, the Orc pulled the whip off of his belt and cracked it over the wolf’s head. “Back in your place, you halfwit mongrel,” he barked. He flared his enormously broad, flat nose as he snarled his upper lip, staring the wolf down. The wolf’s hackles rose and it began to growl in response.

    Moving with lightning quickness, the Orc sent a lash ripping across the wolf’s back, eliciting a yelp and a quick retreat.

    The Orc laid his free hand on the hilt of sword with a jagged blade at his side. “Try that with me again, and I’ll feed this blade down your gullet instead.”

    Taking advantage of the distraction, Gimbo and company ascended towards the stadium with renewed haste.

    At the bottom, the Orc reached into his basket and threw a thick slab of meat over the overeager wolf’s head and into the midst of the rest of the pack. The wolf bounded off after the slab, already snarling to bully it from the clutches of the pack member that had reached it first.

    Near the top of the steps, Rosa paused and watched the thick cuts sailing to the hungry dire wolves with a wistful look in her eyes.

    “Why don’t you jump right in?” Gimbo said quietly as he passed her. “I’ll bet you could give every one of those brutes a run for their lunch.”

    “I would like to watch that,” Korridan said, passing next.

    Rosa shook her head as she ran to catch up with them. “I’ll pass on that one, thank you,” she hissed. “I may have a savage beast lurking under my skin, a lady of my upbringing still has some standards of decency.”

    “This from a woman who dances with glee upon the corpses of her foes.” Korridan said as she reached him.

    She grinned at him. “Only when they’ve been very, very bad. Standards, love. Standards.”

    He smiled back at her. “Whatever you say.”

    Gimbo emerged onto the uppermost spectator’s tier of the stadium behind Mok and wondered why the Orc was just standing there. He walked next to Mok, then he too stopped short as he beheld the savage scene in the arena below. A scattering of Orcs, trolls, and ogres occupied the stadium’s stone benches, cheering on a trio of massive, wingless, four-legged, dragon-like beasts as they circled a huddled group of juvenile red, green, blue, and bronze drakes. Long chains attached to iron collars encompassing the drakes’ necks bound them to the arena floor.

    While the drakes were clearly barely older than whelps, the beasts menacing them were easily twice their size—mature, scarred, and slavering at the mouth.

    “A coward’s contest,” Mok murmured. His jaw muscles worked under the surface of his skin.

    “What manner of abominations are those?” Korridan marveled. “This...there is nothing natural here. Only dark sorcery and perverted sciences.”

    Gimbo guessed the hulking beasts had to be some sort of mutant dragonkin. Korridan was right—these things were not natural. He shuddered to imagine what further freaks of science and magic awaited them in the depths of Blackwing Lair itself.

    A beast rushed towards the bronze drake, a savage roar bellowing from its gaping maw. The drake swung its clubbed tail at the beast’s head, but the beast caught the tail in its teeth and yanked the drake off of its feet, sending the juvenile crashing to the ground. A second beast bounded forward and clamped its jaws onto the drake’s neck where it lay. The beast throttled the drake violently, sending blood splattering on the arena floor. Lurching to the end of its chain, the red drake struck at the beast with its claws, only to be batted aside by the beast’s heavy paw. The beast continued to throttle the bronze as the spectators cheered every louder.

    “Come on, everyone. We have to keep moving,” Gimbo said. To his right, a flight of steps led down from the spectator tier into a torchlit corridor under the floor. He motioned towards the stairs. “This way, friends.”

    A hooded Blackrock Orc sitting on a bench about twenty feet away suddenly turned his head towards Gimbo and looked straight into his eyes. Gimbo felt his heart stop. Horror froze him in place as he stared back at the Orc.

    The Orc’s eyes glowed brilliantly for an instant, then blinked out, returning to normal. He turned his head slowly back towards the bloody spectacle below as if nothing had happened.

    Gimbo squinted at the Orc in puzzlement. Had he imagined the whole thing? An illusion of the ever-shimmering barrier zone between planes? The Orc couldn’t possibly have seen through his invisibility. Surely it was just his nerves.

    Putting the episode out of his mind, he led the way into the darkened corridor. It was fairly wide and dimly lit by an occasional torch. Through the walls, Gimbo heard the muffled roar of cheers from the stadium, interspersed with bestial snarls, like listening to distant ocean surge through a conch shell. He kept along the path he had memorized as a young man, even as the memory gradually faded from his mind all these years later. Cogs. His joints had started to go a few years back and now his memory was following. Desperately, he tried to remind himself that he didn’t feel that old yet.

    He stopped when the path split into north and south corridors. He stood there silently, stroking his mustache. Which way now? Cogs, I don’t remember.”

    “Lost?” Mok said, raising an eyebrow.”

    “Mok, famed explorer Gimbo Tinkertorque does _ not _ get lost. Just give me a minute.” He squinted up and down the paths. Zounds.

    “Strange. You don't look like any Blackrock agent I’ve ever seen,” came a voice from the shadows behind them. Gimbo whirled. It was the hooded Orc from the stadium. His expression was unreadable but there could be no mistaking it this time—he was looking directly at them. Into the barrier zone.

    Mok drew his swords and Rosa retrieved her axe from her back. “You’re a fool to face us here alone, Blackrock scum,” Mok said. “I will be happy to serve your death warrant.”

    Gimbo sidled up to Korridan, hiding partially behind his robes. “Korridan, how long were those invisibility potions supposed to last?” he hissed.

    “Oh, don’t worry, you’re still invisible,” the Orc said. “Just not invisible to a dragon’s sight.”

    Gimbo’s stared at the Orc, his eyes widening. “What? A dragon?”

    “My name is Acridostrasz. An agent of queen Alexstrasza here in the mountain. I am unsure of your purpose but if there is one thing I’ve learned in my time in this accursed place, it is that anyone not an ally of my queen is most assuredly an enemy. You will tell me which one you are. Be quick. I have no time for games and I will know immediately if you choose to speak a lie.”

    Gimbo looked into the dragon’s hard, bitter eyes, weighing his options and the consequences of answering “incorrectly”. If they acted quickly, the four of them might be able to defeat a single dragon in humanoid form but the commotion would assuredly attract attention that could destroy any chances of ever rescuing Hilda. He decided to forgo the two narrow choices Acridostrasz had given him and give an honest answer instead. Red dragons were honorable. He would recognize and appreciate an honest answer, wouldn’t he?

    He motioned to Mok and Rosa. “Mok, Rosa, put away your weapons.” Mok looked at him with a sidelong scowl but he and Rosa obeyed. Gimbo stepped towards Acridostrasz. “We are neither an ally nor an enemy, good dragon. While we have the utmost respect for the great Lifebinder, we hold no allegiance to any faction, ruler, or group. We’re a non-aligned private enterprise operation.”

    Acridostrasz’s hard expression showed no change. “Are you treasure hunters seeking to plunder the riches of the Dark Horde? Perhaps you seek dark knowledge and forbidden relics?”

    “No, no. Far from it. We were originally hired by Magistrate Solomon of Lakeshire to kill the dragon Umbrion and bring back his head. Things didn’t go according to plan. Our only purpose now is to rescue one of our own who was taken prisoner and carried here by Umbrion. We believe she was taken to Blackwing Lair.”

    Acridostrasz raised an eyebrow. “A Wildhammer Dwarf?”

    Gimbo stared at him. “You’ve seen Hilda?”

    “Three days ago, that coward Umbrion brought a Wildhammer Dwarf woman into the Spire, but he has not taken her to Blackwing Lair. She is being kept by the drunkard whelp of Drakkisath’s, General Drakk’sul at the Spire Throne. Umbrion has not left the Spire Throne in all that time. If you seek to rescue her, I suggest you hurry. I have overheard talk of an imminent execution.”

    “Execution?” He glanced at Rosa. There was a startled look in her eyes as her face paled.

    “You’re not going to oppose us?” Mok said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

    “Your friend has shown a fighting spirit during her captivity the like of which I have rarely seen in a mortal. It reflects the very resilience of the Red Dragonflight itself. It would sadden me to see her perish. And if by chance you find an opportunity to complete your mission and take the head of Seetheria’s first-hatched, I couldn’t consider you anything less than an ally of the Red Dragonflight. I would assist you—nothing would please me more than a chance to slaughter both Umbrion and the cursed Dragonspawn general, but my covert mission here would be compromised as a result and I have a far more…significant target in my sights. On your way to the Spire Throne, beware of Blackhand’s sentries and their hunting worgs. They patrol the approaches to the throne room and they will be able to detect you through your invisibility shroud in a heartbeat. May the strength of my queen go with you.”

    “Thank you, Acridostrasz,” Gimbo's said.

    “Please, you may call me Acride.”

    “Acride it is. Thank you. Alright, Problem Solvers, hoof it! This way!” He began to take the left-hand corridor leading north.

    “Wrong way, friend,” Acride quickly said. “That corridor leads to the Blackwing Lair. You want to take the southern corridor.”

    Gimbo quickly turned around and took the right-hand corridor. “This way! Double time!”

    Mok looked down at him as he ran alongside him. “You’re not lost? Are you sure?”

    He glared back at him. “Just zip it, alright?” He looked back at Rosa, noting the intensity in her eyes and the way she held her axe with both hands in a white-knuckled grip. “Rosa, Hilda is not going to be executed. We’re going to save her. I promise you.”

    Her intense expression softened a little, replaced with a feral smile as her dark eyes met his. “Oh I know we are. Believe me, that dragon will wish he were never bleeding hatched.”

    The group continued through the tunnels underneath the stadium, mostly empty dining halls and storage rooms connected by corridors, until they descended a flight of steps and emerged into a large hall occupied by armored Orcs and Dragonspawn. It contained many branching rooms along its length, leading Gimbo to guess it had once been a hostel or barracks.

    The Orcs and Dragonspawn, mingled around campfires, conversing, drinking, or roasting meat over the flames. The menacing, black, plate mail armor they wore indicated them as top-tier warriors of the Dragonspawn and Dark Horde armies. Downtime for Nefarian and Blackhand’s elite, it seemed.

    Weaving around and between the camps with the others in tow, Gimbo moved as quietly as possible. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he inched dangerously close past, a massive Dragonspawn chewing on the meaty haunch of some unfortunate animal. Gimbo’s foot struck a pebble that rattled across the stone floor.

    He froze just as the Dragonspawn turned its head and stared at him. As the Dragonspawn’s stare deepened into a frown, Gimbo realized it wasn’t looking at him. It looked into the space between him and Rosa standing behind him, eyes searching back and forth. It grunted and turned its attention back to its meal as Gimbo and company began moving again.

    They cleared most of the camps and proceeded through the hall, passing a few branching rooms. From the opposite direction came a lightly armored Orc accompanied by a large, shaggy worg. The Orc carried small, red balls with fuses on his belt that Gimbo recognized as flares. Those would obliterate their invisibility in a heartbeat. “Sentry,” Gimbo hissed. “Nearest room, now!”

    The group backtracked a few feet and ducked into a partially caved-in room. Gimbo stood just at the entrance, watching the sentry approach. As the Orc neared, he quickly ducked into the room and hugged the wall.

    The worg’s scarred muzzle appeared passing the doorway, followed by its thick, hunched shoulders. Gimbo prayed it wouldn’t pick up there.

    The worg continued without pausing and the sentry followed immediately behind him. Gimbo waited a minute's time before leading his company out of the room and straight into the path of another sentry and his worg.

    The Problem Solvers scrambled across the hall and piled into the next room up. Gimbo nearly tripped over a large chunk of rubble in his haste, as he flattened himself against the inner wall. He panted, his heart hammering as he waited for the sentry and its worg to pass. Afterward, he leaned out of the room and squinted up the hall, scanning for any more approaching danger.

    “Are we do going to be room-hopping all the way up to the Spire Throne?” Rosa said. “This is rather good fun.”

    “Not the pastime I would choose,” Mok grumbled.

    Korridan chuckled. “Sullen brooding isn't a pastime. Which begs the question, what exactly _ do _ you do for fun, Mok?”

    Gimbo rolled his eyes. He decided the coast was clear and stepped outside. “Come on and let's get out of this blasted hall. I’m getting claustrophobic. And...watch for sentries,” he added under his breath.

    They hurried up the hall, passed more rooms containing the rusted, iron frameworks of bunk beds, broken furniture and scattered rubble. Finally exiting the hall into a larger room, Gimbo stopped short at the sight of a trio of Orcs conversing in front of a palisade of wooden stakes that fenced off a large section of the room. A heavy iron gate provided the only access to the space beyond the palisade.

    Two of the Orcs were soldiers, clad in the black armor of the Warchief’s elite and both armed with a sword and shield. One soldier leaned with his back against the palisade, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared up at the ceiling with obvious impatience. The other soldier stood with the third Orc in front of a cart laden with the crudely chopped up corpse of some large animal. The third Orc, dressed in leather pants and a blood-smeared smock, rapped a heavy, spiked rod against the bars of the gate. “Beast! Time to eat!” he bellowed. He rapped the bars twice more and waited.

    Gimbo wondered what horror of the mountain lurked behind the palisade when the overpowering odor of decaying flesh met his nostrils. He covered his nose with his cloak and barely managed to suppress the urge to gag. Looking through the gate, he saw a gaping hole in the wall at the back of the room, ringed with rubble that used to be part of the stonework. Scattered bones and half-eaten carcasses covered in carpets of buzzing flies littered the floor outside. Recalling accounts he had heard in the taverns of Stormwind City and among his Explorer’s League colleagues in Ironforge, they told of a terrible, fiery, two-headed beast to which the enemies of the Blackrock would be fed and swallowed whole, doomed to die in agony within its molten belly. A gigantic core hound, according to the most reliable reports. A former minion of Ragnaros, captured and enslaved. No doubt about it now, this had to be its holding pen.

    “Hell if I know what stick The Beast has up his craw lately,” the Orc carrying the rod said sourly. “The two-headed bastard’s always been a fickle one.”

    “Could it be something you fed him?” the soldier leaning against the palisade asked, seeming only half-interested in the answer.

    The Orc scoffed in response. “How could it be something I fed him when he’s barely eaten anything in a month. If you want to be useful for a change, then perhaps you could tell me how I’m supposed to explain this mess to General Drakk’sul when he loses his prized pet to starvation?”

    “If he won’t eat, then I say force it down his throats,” the soldier in front of the cart said. “I hate to think that you dragged us away from the trial of the Dwarf wench to lug this heavy cart all the way over here for nothing. I wanted to watch that saucy bitch’s head roll off the chopping block.”

    Gimbo looked across the room and set his eyes upon the exit. Through a squared archway carved with Dwarven runes, it opened onto a narrow bridge that stretched at least thirty feet across a gaping chasm, where it lead into a hall with a vaulted ceiling carved into the mountain on the other side. He knew the Orc, Troll, and Ogre-infested Lower Spire lay over two hundred feet below. The vaulted hall ahead was the antechamber to the throne room. There was not much farther to go now. They would find Hilda soon.

    After making hand motions for the others to follow him, Gimbo began moving in that direction when the haze of the barrier zone fluctuated before his eyes, then was suddenly gone. He saw Rosa and Mok become fully corporeal for a half second before the haze reformed around him.

    The soldier leaning against the palisade stood up straight and drew his sword as he stared at the spot where Rosa and Mok had appeared. “Ho! What was that?” He looked at his companions. “Did you two see that?”

    The two Orcs turned to look at him. “See what?” the other soldier asked. “What are you going on about?”

    “There!” He pointed at Korridan as he slipped out of the barrier zone and appeared corporeal for a full two seconds before fading back in. This time all three Orcs saw him.

    The core hound handler’s eyes became fearful as he gripped his rod in both hands. “Infiltrators!” he gasped, his eyes darting back and forth.

    The soldier in front of the palisade reached for something on his belt, which Gimbo realized was a flare. Mok dashed towards the soldier on a lightning gust of wind. The soldier threw the flare just as Mok reached him and struck out with a sword, severing the soldier’s head from his shoulders.

    Gimbo and Korridan dove out of the flare’s path as it hit the ground at Rosa’s feet, exploding in a brilliant burst of light. Rolling onto his back, Gimbo rose up onto his elbows and watched as she was ripped from the barrier zone and fully materialized in the mortal plane.

    Rosa looked at herself, then at Gimbo. “Bollacks.”

    Gimbo rose to his feet. “Kill them! Don’t leave any witnesses!”

    With a shout, she charged the remaining soldier.  

    The Orc drew a jagged-edged broadsword and raised his heavy, iron tower shield against her. Her body transformed as she closed with him, landing a mortal strike against his shield. The savage blow didn’t move him an inch, thudding against and throwing out sparks. He retaliated by bashing his shield against her shoulder as she raised her axe for another strike, staggering her back.

    “Bloody hell!” she blurted, her voice shaking as she held her upper arm with one hand, grimacing

    The Orc grinned and laughed. “Bitch! This mountain will be your tomb!” He counterattacked with vengeful fury, landing blows with such quickness, that Rosa couldn't do more than block and parry and try to stay on balance against the weight of his attacks.

    As the Orc engaged with her, Korridan gathered light in his hands but hesitated to loose a spell. He followed their dueling attacks and counterattacks anxiously, clearly unwilling to risk hitting Rosa.

    The Orc lunged at her, stabbing for the mail-covered gap at her side between her breastplate and back plate. She turned her axe to parry the blow, turning the Orc’s blade aside and causing his momentum to carry him too far forward, too quickly. Taking advantage of his overzealous attack while he was still off-balance, she swung her axe for his head. He managed to duck under his shield and her blow clashed harmlessly against it. Recovering his balance, he pushed her off his shield with a mighty heave and kicked her savagely in the groin. She let out an explosive “OOF!” as the blow sent her sprawling to the floor on her back.

    Korridan took advantage of the opening, loosing a rapid barrage of swirling light upon the Orc. “Suffer the Light’s penitence, Blackrock!” he shouted.

    The Orc intercepted the spell with his shield and the iron glowed with enchantment as the light absorbed into the shield, then shot back at Korridan as shadowy bolts. “SHIELD—” Korridan began, before the word left his mouth, two of the shadow bolts hit him in the side and the shoulder, flooring him.

    “Not today, priest!” the Orc laughed. “Save your sermons for pups and old women.” His head snapped towards Mok, rushing towards him with his swords raised, his form flickering in and out of the barrier zone. “I see you!” the Orc snarled. They met, sword against shield in a resounding clash of steel.

    The core hound’s handler rushed with his spiked rod at Korridan where he lay. Gimbo ran to cut him off as the Orc spotted him, halted in his charge and swung the rod at him. Gimbo ducked the blow, dashed to him and stabbed upwards, sinking his blade under the Orc’s rib cage. He wrenched his dagger out and dodged out of the way as the Orc collapsed to the floor.

    He looked back to the remaining Blackrock. Rosa was back on her feet and engaged with him again alongside Mok. Amazingly, he kept them both at bay, parrying aside Mok’s quick strikes while blocking every one of Rosa’s mighty axe blows.

    Gimbo ran to help Korridan struggle to his feet. “Korridan, code twenty-two! Give me a high angle!”

    Korridan nodded in understanding. He stooped to allow Gimbo to climb onto his shoulders. As soon as Gimbo had climbed on, Korridan, still grimacing from the shadow-tinged wounds inflicted by his reflected spell, maneuvered behind the Blackrock. As Gimbo stood up on Korridan’s shoulders, Korridan grabbed his feet and cast a sudden, powerful burst of energy from his hands that rocketed Gimbo into the air.

    He felt the air rushing past his ears and his eyes shot toward the ceiling, rapidly approaching his face. He clenched his teeth as his eyes widened. “Angle too high, angle too high!” his mind screamed. Entrusting the fate of his cranium to Korridan’s judgment, he forced his eyes to refocus on his target below, the Orc’s thick, exposed neck. He reached the peak of his arc just inches from the ceiling, then plummeted towards the Blackrock like a mortar shell. Landing on the Orc’s shoulders, Gimbo grabbed a wad of his hair, yanking his head back. Yelling, he drove his blade into the thick flesh of the Orc’s neck, burying it up to the hilt.

    Roaring, the Orc reeled back and dropped his shield as he reached back to grab at Gimbo. Keeping a tight grip on the Orc’s hair, Gimbo dodged his flailing hands and yanked his dagger out, plunging it back into the Orc’s neck repeatedly until his roar became a gurgle. The Orc toppled forward and Gimbo leaped from his falling body, rolling as he hit the ground to break his fall. He stood up and turned around to see the Orc flattened on the floor, blood pooling beneath his corpse.

    Gimbo stared, stunned at his own handiwork. Sighing breathlessly, he turned to his comrades. “Problem Solvers, that is how we Blackrock and roll.”

    Rosa stared at Gimbo before breaking into a fang-filled grin. “Bravo! Bloody good show, love!” Her grin widened as her yellow eyes glowed brighter. “What a regular little killing machine you are. I like it. I like it very much. Mok, did you see him?”

    “I saw him,” Mok grunted. Though he would never come out and say it, Gimbo could see in Mok’s eyes that even he was impressed.

    Gimbo sheathed his dagger. “Hide the bodies quickly. We have to move before another patrol comes along.”

    “I’ve seen a side room in the far wall,” Korridan said. “I believe it’s where they butcher the meat to be fed to this beast. We can hide the bodies there.”

    Rosa looked apologetically at Gimbo as she helped Mok lift the nearest body onto the meat cart. “I suppose I’m not much for stealth anymore in my current state, am I? “I’m bloody sorry, Alpha. I should have been more careful.”

    Gimbo shook his head. “Rosa, it wasn’t your fault. No one could have dodged that flash bomb. It simply hit too close to avoid.”

    “I’ve cost us the element of surprise.”

    “Don’t worry—this can still work. We’ll scout and clear the path ahead while you hang back out of sight. We just have to hope our invisibility holds a bit longer.”

    She nodded. “Right-o.”

    After all three bodies were secure on the cart, he and Rosa rolled it into the butcher room. They used several smocks they found there to soak up the blood on the floor and tossed them to the back of the room with the meat cart.

    Moments afterwards, the four of them were hurrying on their way across the stone bridge to the throne room antechamber. Keeping in mind the perils of vertigo, Gimbo tried his best to avoid looking over the sides of the narrow, causeway passing over Hordemar City and the twisting, ruined paths of the Lower Spire far below.

    Upon reaching the other side, they entered the antechamber. Thick pillars, carved with dwarven runes lined the path through the chamber, which made several turns, passing empty rooms before opening up into a grand hall where cracked and faded murals decorated the walls. It looked like a ballroom, a grand place once used by the old Dark Iron emperor to entertain his distinguished guests and members of the court.

    Gimbo’s eyes widened in surprise as he beheld the murals extending all around the room, his explorer’s heart set aflame by the unexpected discovery of these beautiful relics of a bygone era. He passed scenes of hounds on the hunt, miners delving into the deep earth, and warriors upon the field of battle—perfect examples of Regency period Dark Iron artwork. He dearly wished that he could have the time and opportunity to study them in detail. Maybe acquire a section of the wall for display at the Hall of Explorers in Ironforge. He would be the toast of the League. To leave them here, crumbling and neglected, looked upon in passing by savages unable to appreciate their intricate artistry, was tragic. He lowered his eyes for a moment, feeling quietly pensive. Just like the scorched, centuries old ruins of Thaurissan in the Steppes, these lost, fading murals mirrored the tragedy of the corruption and downfall of the once noble Dark Iron civilization as a whole.

    The Problem Solvers traveled across the wide floor of the ballroom until they neared an arched passageway on the far side. Gimbo began to hear voices and commotion as he entered the passageway, following its path for fifteen or twenty feet as the voices grew louder and angrier. The passage came to an end and entrance to the throne room lay just ahead.

    Creeping up to the entrance, Gimbo shielded his eyes from the bright torchlight as he crouched next to the nearest wall, his companions huddled close to him as he beheld the scene inside the throne room. He saw Hilda, her hands shackled behind her back. Thank the Light she was still alive! She stood before a roaring, jeering crowd of thirty or more Blackrocks gathered in the shadow of the Spire Throne. A stern-faced Orc stood just behind her, fingering the handle of a heavy baton he carried in his hands.

    Her face was red and smudged with grime as she stared grimly at the hostile throng. The joy of seeing her alive, gave way to a lump in Gimbo’s throat. He feared the worst of what was to come next and he was at a loss for how to save her from the midst of thirty Orcs and onlooking Dragonspawn.

    Upon the Spire Throne behind her, regarding her smugly, sat a giant, winged Dragonspawn carrying a great spear in one hand and flanked by two Dragonspawn elite soldiers in black armor. Could this be the General Drakk’sul Acridostrasz mentioned? Upon a smaller stone seat in a corner of the room close to the throne, a dark-skinned human with red eyes and dressed in black and red robes sat scowling, looking haggard and impatient as he observed the proceedings. If he were to hazard a wild guess, Gimbo surmised this man had to be Umbrion in mortal guise. Surely that vain coward wouldn't miss this spectacle even for his own mother’s funeral.

    An Orc dressed in the robes of a judge or inquisitor stood on a podium at the head of the crowd of Blackrocks. He banged a cone-shaped gavel to quiet the Orcs, then fixed hateful eyes on Hilda. “Answer the charges against you,” he bellowed. “What do you have to say in your defense?”

    Screwing up her face in contempt, she spit on the ground at the foot of the podium. The Orc behind her immediately struck her across the back of the head with his baton, driving her to her knees. Gimbo heard the crack and felt it in his bones as he grimaced in horror. He heard Rosa gasp behind him.

    The Orc kicked Hilda in the face, bowling her over. “You will treat this court and the inquisitor with due respect, maggot!” he boomed down at her. She lay on her side cradling her bleeding face.

    “I’ll ask you once more,” the inquisitor said. “How do you answer the charges brought against you?”

    Hilda struggled to her knees and slowly lifted her head to glare at him. She spit out blood as a trickle ran down her chin. “Guilty as yer ma in a bawdy house,” she spat. “I shot dozens of ye manky, vomit-eatin’ mongrels in Redridge and I enjoyed every bloomin’ minute of it. I’d gladfully kill a thousand more of ye startin’ with yer ash-powdered arse. Inquisitor.”

    The baton-wielding Orc's face purpled with rage and he kicked her savagely in the stomach. While she remained on her hands and knees, hacking and gasping for breath, he punched her in the temple, snapping her head to the side, then he kicked her in the face again, sending her once more to the floor. While she lay there, he beat her repeatedly with the baton.

    Gimbo was terrified that he was going to kill her until the inquisitor banged his gavel on the podium, interrupting him. “Enough! Bailiff, bring the accused back to her feet. The court recognizes her confession of guilt. The court will now hear the testimonies of witnesses against the accused. Sergeant Gorod of Stonewatch, please step forward and give your statement.”

    The bailiff gave a huff and grudgingly put away his baton. He reached down and pulled Hilda roughly to her feet by one arm.

    Gimbo looked at Rosa. She stared at Hilda as her friend hung limply from the bailiff’s hand, bloody and fighting to stay conscious. The veteran warrior’s cheeks were damp with tears but her expression was grim and her lips tightly pressed together. She obviously fought to contain her emotions. After a moment, she looked intently back the way the four of them had come, chewing on her lower lip before turning back to look at Hilda. Her eyes hardened with a look of resolve.

    Gimbo eyed her warily. “Rosa, I recognize that look in your eyes...what are you planning?”

    “You boys hold down the fort here a mo,” she said, “I’m going back to fetch, let’s say...Firelands reinforcements.”

    “What the—reinforcements? Firelands? What in the Light’s name are you talking about?”

    “Terribly sorry, Alpha, but I haven't the time to work through your one hundred and one objections sure to follow if I try to explain. Hilda’s head will be off her shoulders by then. Let’s just say, I plan to bring a beast to bear on our burden here. Even out the odds a bit, eh?.” A sparkle of mischief appeared in her eyes as she smiled at him. “Trust me, love. You’re going to adore my results. Either that, or be mauled to death by them."

    Confounded, Gimbo squinted at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

    “I’ll be along shortly.” She shifted into Worgen form, dropped onto all fours, and sprinted will leaping bounds back up the passage.

    Gimbo threw out a hand after her. “Rosa wait—come back here! Where are you going?” She didn’t answer as she bounded out of sight.

    “Let her go, Gimbo,” Korridan said. “Look at what we face in that throne room. Whatever Rosa’s plan, we don’t have much hope of stopping this miscarriage of Justice if she can’t succeed.”

    Gimbo nodded and sighed. “I have a feeling chaos is about to follow in her wake.”  

    “Agreed. She is a Worgen after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback. I love lots of critique!


	8. Chapter 8

     Rosa hurried through the pillar-lined antechamber, back towards the bridge and the core hound’s pen. Her mind was swimming with bitter thoughts of the bailiff beating Hilda and how dearly she wanted to rip out his throat in a gloriously satisfying bloodbath.

    She told herself Hilda would be alright in the end. The old girl was tougher than hardened elementium and she had made it through more dire peril than this before, hadn’t she? She only had to hold out a little longer. Help was coming.

    The easy part of her a plan would be luring The Beast out of its den. The hard part, possibly, getting it to follow her all the way back to the throne room and making it angry enough to spread the right proper amount of havoc upon arrival. She was blanking out on that point at the moment, but surely she would think of something.

    She neared the bridge and paused behind a pillar to peer across the chasm, scanning for any patrols approaching from the other side. The coast clear, she sprinted across the bridge, reached The Beast’s holding pen, and halted to study the heavy iron gate. There appeared to be no latch, no bolt or chain holding it fast. She couldn’t even find the point where it opened.

    “ _ How do they move the bloody thing?” _ she wondered. She looked along the bottom edge of the gate and noticed it rested in a groove along it length. She smiled with delight. _ “So it slides open, then. Capital.” _  She searched for and found a crank on the far left side of the palisade, operated by a large iron wheel. “Right-o!” She cracked her knuckles and grabbed the wheel in a strong grip, then threw her shoulders into turning it.

    She strained and huffed as she tried to get the wheel moving, only to find it stuck tight. Relaxing her grip momentarily, she breathed out a long sigh and whistled. “Alright, you stubborn wanker,” she grumbled. She gripped the wheel again and threw all her strength into it. The wheel began to give way a little at a time, creaking as it turned. 

    The gate made a terrible noise as it moved, scraping and screeching along its rails. Fearing the worst, Rosa stopped to peer through the bars into the enclosure. No sign of The Beast. She strained against the wheel again, taking deep breaths as she turned it, repositioning her hands and turning again. Gradually, the gate slid along the rails until finally it stood wide open. She stepped through the gate and gazed from a distance into the gaping hole in the wall where The Beast made his den. Faint firelight shown on the walls of the passage from somewhere deep inside. Swiveling her ears forward to listen closely, she could hear The Beast’s breathing, but heard and saw no sign of movement. Bugger, the thing could sleep like an earth elemental.  

    She pondered once again how to coax The Beast out and compel it to chase her. That’s when she realized that she needed to pee very badly. “Oh bugger, not now,” she grumbled. When was the last time she’d had the chance to go. Six...seven hours ago? The pressure on her bladder was almost agonizing. Why hadn’t she noticed this before now? She wondered where and how to relieve herself, a difficult proposition while wearing a full suit of armor.

    At once, an idea—one she was surprised she hadn’t thought of sooner. As she mulled it over, she cringed at the audacity of it, but from one canine to another, it had to be the boldest and surest way to send the brute into a stamping, roaring rage.

    Navigating between the reeking, uneaten carcasses strewn about, she crept towards the den until she stood at the mouth. “Very sorry about this, love,” she said with genuine guilt. “Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.” She untied the leather straps of her cuisses and removed them. She dropped her drawers, squatted down and began to urinate on the crumbling rubble from the fallen wall. After mostly emptying her bladder, she swiftly put her armor back on and retreated to the palisade. She surmised she might need a little left over for the next part of her plan. Crouching at the gate, she gathered several large pieces of broken stone from the floor, which she began tossing one by one at the mouth of the den.

    She paused and waited for a response. Seeing and hearing no sign of movement from the inky darkness within, she scowled. “Wake up, you git,” she murmured. She hurled several more pieces of stone noisily at the den’s mouth. A vicious snarl like twin rumbling waves breaking against a shore echoed from the depths of the den.

    Rosa tensed and took two steps back. “Oi. There you are, boyo.” Dropping to all fours and retreating across the bridge, she crouched behind a pillar where she watched the den and prepared to run for her life at a moment’s notice.

    Two fiery heads emerged from the den, followed by a hulking, hairless, canine form that reminded Rosa vaguely of an bulldog. Elemental fire constantly spit from cracks in The Beast’s thick, blackened skin as he stomped into the open. The Beast turned his heads independently to look around his enclosure and towards the open gate as it sniffed the air with both noses. Dipping his heads low to the ground, The Beast sniffed along the floor and stopped abruptly at the spot where Rosa had relieved herself. He paused, nostrils flaring at the scent of her blatant, insolent violation of his territory. His heads snapped up and he seemed to look straight in her direction. Rage filling all of his eyes, The Beast let out twin roars that shook the floor beneath her feet. He galloped out of the gate and stopped, noses questing for her scent. Following another roar, The Beast began to gallop towards the bridge.

    Rosa’s eyes widened. “Oi, time to run!” Come and find me, darling. Follow your nose.” She bounded off to rejoin her companions.

 

    Gimbo constantly glanced back towards the passage, hoping to see Rosa appear out of the shadows any minute now. The past ten minutes seemed like ten hours and he hadn’t seen even one stray hair of her. Mok was getting restless, muttering under his breath and fingering the hilt of his sword. If Gimbo hadn’t been here to rein him in, he was sure Mok would have charged in like a wild animal by now, swords flying and dooming them all. Where in Azeroth was that crazy Worgen?    

    “I have reviewed the evidence and heard all witnesses,” the inquisitor said. If the accused has nothing more to say in her defense, I will now pronounce judgment.”

    He looked at Hilda and she glared back at him in silence.

    “Very well, then. In light of her confession of guilt and the weight of the evidence against her, I pronounce the accused guilty of all charges.”

    The gathered Blackrocks roared approval, banging weapons together and stomping their feet on the floor.

    “We have to do something,” Mok growled. “We can’t allow this travesty to continue.” He drew his swords a took up a battle stance. “We have the elements of both concealment and surprise. We must strike like the wind now!”

    “Stand down, Mok,” Gimbo said. “That’s an order. We have to stay put and wait for Rosa. We can’t fight these savages without her.”

    The inquisitor continued, “Considering the gravity of her crimes against the True Horde and the general will of those gathered here, I hereby sentence her to death by beheading. To be carried out immediately in the presence of this court and our honored representatives of the Black Dragonflight attending.

    General Drakk’sul clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Blackrock justice—crude, but quite effective. Wouldn’t you say, Umbrion, my boy?” He looked at the sour-faced dragon and gave a leering smile.

    “If only it were as swift,” Umbrion said without looking at him.

    The Dragonspawn turned his gaze upon Hilda.“That was quite a show of defiance that you put on, my pet. Quite entertaining, to say the least. Yet quite futile in the end, I’m sorry to say.”

    She didn’t meet his eyes and simply stared at the floor.

    Drakk’sul’s eyes took on a look of mocking sympathy. “Oh yes. Your friends. They never came charging to your rescue, did they? Not even dear, valiant Rosa. It would seem they’ve abandoned you. I can’t blame them really. They could never hope to invade this mighty mountain. It seems they’ve taken the wise path, cut their losses and gone home. If even they still live, which I highly doubt.”

    The fire in Hilda’s swollen and bruised eyes seemed to have completely gone as she kept them fixed upon the floor, rebellion replaced by numb emptiness.

    Drakk’sul grinned and Gimbo had a powerful compulsion to punch him in the mouth. With the help of Rosa’s promised reinforcements, he wouldn’t hesitate. Rosa. Cogs, where was she?

    “Enough talk!” an Orc among the crowd shouted. “Let justice be met!” 

    Other voices took up the charge. “Justice! Death to the guilty!”

    “Such impatience,” Drakk’sul said. “He gave a dismissive wave of his hand towards Hilda. “Very well. Inquisitor, dispose of her as you see fit.”

    The inquisitor wrapped his gavel. “Bailiff, bring the block. Executioner, step forward.”

    The bailiff grabbed a chain attached to a heavy, square block of stone next to Drakk’sul’s throne and dragged the block into the middle of the room while another Orc pushed Hilda forward until she stood behind it, facing the crowd. He forced her to her knees.

    Mok made a snarling noise. “Enough waiting!” He motioned to Korridan. “Korridan, follow me. Prepare your holy nova and approach from the flank while I mirror my image among them. Strike the bailiff and the executioner when you have an opening. Gimbo, if you can muster the courage and the initiative, strike the disguised dragon from behind. You may yet take his head for us.” Wind swirled around his feet and he charged into the throne room.

    Gimbo rushed in behind him. “Mok, stop! Cogs. Listen to me!”

    The floor under Mok’s sandals erupted in a brilliant flash of light that instantly blinded Gimbo. Futilely shielding his eyes with his hands, he stumbled to his knees as vertigo overtook him. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to see through the white noise blurring his vision. Where was Mok? Had Korridan joined him?

    As his eyes adjusted, he found himself huddled with his companions, the center of attention for all eyes in the room. The surrounding air sizzled with traces of magic from the sprung trap, chasing away the last vestiges of their invisibility and leaving them standing fully materialized in the corporeal plane.

    Hilda blinked and stared at the three of them, her mouth agape.

    Umbrion rocketed up out of his seat. “It’s them! I don’t believe my eyes! The interlopers—we have them!”

    Drakk’sul’s eyes widened as he stared at them with interest. “Well now...what do we have here? A troupe of fools? An ill-fated rescue party?”

    “Guards, arrest them immediately,” Umbrion commanded.

    Mok roared and brandished his swords. Two armored Orcs approached with axes drawn but hesitated when Mok whirled on them, poised with his blades wide apart, ready to meet an attack from any direction. “I am a blademaster of the Bleeding Hollow Clan!” he said. “Dare oppose me and I will cut you down like so many heads of wheat in a field.

    Gimbo turned to a guard approaching from behind and whipped out his dagger. He turned it to the side, the blade facing outwards and crouched with his other hand up, fingers curled. “Stay back! I’m, um...a grand master assassin of the, uh, Shadow Blade Cult! The Shiv, they call me. Dare attack me and I promise you the um...the serpent bite of my deadly poisoned blade!” He cringed inwardly while fixing the Orc with what he hoped was a withering glare.  _ Cogs, that was bad. _

    “My,” Drakk’sul said. “It seems these three don’t intend to go down quietly, Umbrion my boy.”

    Korridan thrust his staff before him. “Enemies of the Light, beware the fate that awaits your corrupted souls in the Twisting Nether!” he boomed. “The Light has judged you and I shall be the deliverer of its righteous fury!” He clenched his free hand as if to conjure the Light, but no bright glow gathered between his fingers. His feathery eyebrows knitted together in a look of concern.

    Mok stamped his foot. When no wind gathered at his feet, he looked down at his sandals and stamped again. “The winds of my ancestors—they have abandoned me!” he snarled.

    Korridan gazed at his hand thoughtfully. “It seems the trap has dampened all sources of magic.”

    “What?” Gimbo whipped towards him. “How can your magic be dampened? I thought the power of the Light acts through faith alone.”

    “Yes, but it must also be channeled through my body. Those channels are now closed. All we can do now is pray for the Light’s deliverance.

    Gimbo felt something slam into his chest and the next moment he lay on his back, gasping to regain the breath that had been forced from his lungs. He heard his dagger clatter on the stone floor. The guard he had confronted stood over him, boot planted firmly against his chest, pinning him to the floor. He lay there blinking at the Orc with his arms raised in surrender. “Okay, big guy...oof...you win this time, but the Shadow Blade Cult will not, um...forget this insult.”

   He heard Mok hurling insults and craned his neck to see him and Korridan detained by eight or nine Orcs in the process of disarming them. The bailiff stepped forward and the guards handed Mok’s swords and Korridan’s staff off to him.

   Hilda looked at the floor, grimacing and muttering curses in Dwarvish.

   Drakk’sul chuckled. “Did you truly believe my throne room would not be protected from such concealed approaches? Assassins have plotted before to remove me as general of the Dragonspawn. Their bones now decorate the floor of a core hound’s den.”

    The guard standing over Gimbo lifted his foot off his chest and wrenched him to his feet. He stooped to the floor and retrieved his dagger, admired the jeweled hilt for a moment, then grinned as he thrust it into his belt.

   “Bring the Dwarf woman’s accomplices before the court,” the inquisitor said. “They must stand trial immediately.”

   “No!” Umbrion boomed. “I have endured your meaningless trials long enough. Blackrock justice indeed! Bring them before me and I will carry out my own, swifter form of justice upon them. The justice of the Black Dragonflight.” His voice grew quieter and he spoke as if reciting a mantra to himself. “Ruthless and decisive, ambitious yet cunning at all times.” He motioned to the Dragonspawn guards flanking Drakk’sul’s throne. “Guards. Bring them.”

   The Dragonspawn immediately waded into the crowd of Orcs closing in on Gimbo and his companions, shoving the Blackrocks detaining them aside, surrounding them and herding them towards the Spire Throne. Gimbo cringed as the butt of a Dragonspawn’s spear shoved into his back drove him forward.

   The inquisitor gripped the edges of his podium and shot a glare at Umbrion. “Lord Umbrion, I must protest! They are guilty of crimes against the True Horde and must be punished in accordance with our law.”

   “I was attacked in the Redridge Mountains. They came to hunt me. I, son of Nefarian and grandson of Deathwing!” His red eyes flared with a simmering rage. “They are guilty of the most egregious crimes against the Black Dragonflight, they and the Dwarf. They will be punished in accordance with our law.”

   “Very well,” the inquisitor grumbled, “but the Dwarf woman is still ours. Executioner, put her neck on the block and carry out the sentence immediately.”

   “No, I want her brought to me with the others. They will all suffer the vengeance of the Black Dragonflight.”

   Howls of protest rang out among the Blackrocks. Some crowded and pressed forward behind Gimbo. The Dragonspawn guards faced them, holding their spears up to block the crowd’s advance. Orc’s hands went to their weapons. Gimbo whipped towards the Orcs and back to the Dragonspawn, eyes wide as he backed away. He didn’t fancy ending up trampled in the midst of an inter-faction brawl.

   The inquisitor’s face registered shock. “Lord Umbrion! She is guilty of crimes against—”

   Umbrion’s face became livid. Scales grew on his skin as he appeared to become taller, face elongating and teeth sharpening. “She is guilty of crimes against _ ME _ !”

   “NO!” woman wailed from the back of the room. “Don’t hurt her! Please!”

    Umbrion’s form shrank back into his human shape and he stared towards the entrance to the throne room.

    Gimbo blinked. That sounded like Rosa. He turned to see her in human form, rushing through the crowd Orcs towards the Spire Throne. The first thing he noticed was that her armor was completely gone, leaving her provocatively under-dressed. He blinked some more. Her padded undershirt was ripped deeply down the front so that it barely kept her chest contained behind it. Her lower garment was torn up the side, revealing a healthy swath of thigh. The mutilation of her clothing all looked strangely deliberate. Well, this was Rosa so perhaps not so strangely.

   A guard thrust himself into her path and drew his axe. “You! Stop!”

   She skidded to a halt in front of him and yelled over his shoulder towards Umbrion. “Lord Umbrion, great son of Nefarian! I’ve come unarmed and imploring your mercy. I beg you to spare Hilda’s life!”

   “Rosa!” Hilda blurted. Her stare seemed to register at least as much confusion as Gimbo felt himself.

   Umbrion’s dark features brightened and seemed to take on a radiant glow as the corners of his lips crooked up into an ecstatic grin. “Now walks the Worgen into the spider’s web. Marvelous! The heroic party of five, reunited only to die by my hand.” He called to a guard. “Bring her, and put her with the rest, Orc. My victory will be complete at last.”

_ What by Magni’s great beard is she doing _ , Gimbo thought. He felt a chill of dismay as a lump rose in his throat. Where were the reinforcements she’d promised? Was this that brilliant plan she claimed she had no time to explain to him? Barge in barely clothed and get captured? Had she lost her mind?

   The guard seized Rosa by the arm and brought her forward. Turning for an instant towards Gimbo as she passed him, she mouthed the words “ _ trust me _ ” and indicated with her chin towards the throne room entrance.

   Gimbo looked, then turned back to glare at her. He felt his temperature rising. _ What, damn it? What? _ There was nothing there.

   The guard thrust her next to Korridan. The moment he let go of her, she immediately rushed towards Umbrion. The guard lurched after her, scrambling to stop her before she reached him. She fell on her knees before his stone chair. “Lord Umbrion, please stay your righteous fury!” she pleaded. “Take the others, take me, but let Hilda go. Please, I’ll do anything you want!”

    The guard grabbed her and began to pull her away.

    Umbrion put up a hand. “Leave her.” he said, sneering. “If she desires to humiliate herself before she dies, I can take a few moments to indulge her.

    The guard let go of her. She moved a long black lock of hair behind her ear with her fingers and glided them down the side of her neck. She looked up at him with enticing eyes. “After all...I have so much to offer in exchange.”

   Drakk’sul grinned at Umbrion. “Such a noble offer of sacrifice. It breaks your heart, does it not?”

   Umbrion laughed humorlessly. “Your attempt at distraction is futile. Now that your reunion is complete, I fully intend to present your severed heads to my father upon a platter. What do you imagine I could possibly want from you in exchange for this Dwarf’s life? You’re nothing but insects, all of you.”

   Rosa stood up slowly. “I can imagine a lot of things, love. The only question is how much can you imagine?” She ran a finger down to the edge of her cleavage and began walking towards him. She glanced briefly over her shoulder towards the throne room entrance.

   Gimbo glanced too. Still nothing there.

   Umbrion glared her down as she sauntered up to his seat and glided into his lap, closing her arms around his neck. “You’ve waited so long to achieve this moment of victory,” she cooed. “Why not take the time to savor its more...intimate rewards?”

   “Fool,” he growled, pulling away from her. “I am a dragon. I am not beguiled by the enticements of a mere mortal…” His words trailed off when she suddenly straddled his lap and pressed herself against him.

   She met his eyes, her ruby lips now hovering a mere hair’s breadth from his thin ones. “Release Hilda.” She cupped his jaw in her hand. “Spare me too and I promise you rewards beyond your most primal imagination.”

   She pressed a groping hand up his leg as she pushed her face up under his chin and rubbed her entire front against his body in one, long, sensual motion. She stole a glance towards the throne room entrance before diving into another catlike, full-body frontal massage.

   Mok looked thoroughly disgusted. Korridan looked thoughtful, seeming to take this in stride. Hilda’s was just frowning. Gimbo struggled to work out how exactly anything useful was supposed to come out of this gratuitous display. Over the top, even for Rosa.

   Was he missing something important here?  Why was Korridan thoughtful? What does it mean when a priest of the Light thoughtfully watches a nearly naked woman giving a dragon a lap dance? Why was Hilda frowning so calmly? He waved to get her attention. When she glanced at him, he mouthed imploringly, “ _ what is she doing _ ?”

   She watched Rosa for a moment before mouthing back, “ _ She is givin’ him her scent _ .”

   Scent marking? By the Titans, what for? “ _ Why _ ?” he mouthed back, spreading his palms and wagging his head for confounded emphasis.

   She shook her head and gave him a terse hiss as if to say “stop asking stupid questions”.

   Gimbo turned sullenly back to face the nauseating display in Umbrion’s lap.

   Umbrion’s face burned maroon as every pair of eyes in the room had turned him and the woman writhing in his lap into a full-on public spectacle. “What...what are you...doing!” he stammered. He seized her by the wrist and held her at arm’s length. “Enough! I will tolerate your brazen insolence no longer!” 

   Rosa whipped back towards the entrance and stared at it with a desperate look in her eyes.

   Gimbo placed himself in her line of sight and mouthed, “ _ what now _ ?”

   “ _ Trust me _ ,” she mouthed with an obvious question mark at the end. Was she asking herself or was she asking him?

   Umbrion jerked her back towards him. “What?” he snarled in her face. “That’s the third time you have looked at that archway. Are you expecting someone?”

    Rosa clenched her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Ah, bugger!”

    She turned her head and yelled back towards the entrance of the throne room. “Thrice damned, rotten beast! Get in here, ya two-headed git!”**

    Twin roars reverberating through the room chilled Gimbo to his core. The Beast burst from the archway entrance, ramming through and collapsing part of the walls on either side of his bulk on his way inside. He plowed through the first Orcs he saw, crunching one, screaming, between one set of massive jaws while ramming his second head into another two and tossing five more aside with a massive swipe of a forepaw. Panicked Orcs fled from his path in an awful, packed mess, trampling and falling over one another in their haste.

   Drakk’sul stood up from his throne. “The Beast—how can this be? Soldiers, guards! To arms!”

   Two armored Orcs rushed at The Beast with spears. It caught a spear in one of its mouths, crunched it in half, then brought his forepaw crashing down on the disarmed Orc’s head, flattening him underfoot. The second Orc drove his spear into The Beast’s side. The spearhead glanced off The Beast’s thick hide and The Beast backpawed the Orc, tossing him aside like a ragdoll. The Beast galloped into the middle of the room, forcing the inquisitor and the bailiff to flee like frightened rabbits before him. Hilda cursed and limped away from the executioner’s block, ducking between Drakk’sul’s guards as they faced the oncoming beast, positioning themselves to protect the Spire Throne.

    Mok rammed his elbow into the face of the Orc standing behind him and snatched up the Orc’s axe as he fell. He rushed to intercept the fleeing bailiff. The bailiff saw him too late and turned to face him just before Mok plunged the axe blade into his sternum, splitting him open. Mok retrieved his swords and Korridan’s staff from the bailiff’s body. He tossed the staff to Korridan, who caught it and immediately used it to bludgeon an Orc charging him with an axe.

    Gimbo whipped around and spotted the guard who had taken his dagger. He ran at the Orc, dove under his legs, sprang up behind him and wrenched his dagger out of his belt. When the Orc whirled on him with his weapon drawn, Gimbo drove the blade under his breastplate, piercing the chainmail and eviscerating him. 

    Hilda reached Korridan and turned her back to present her shackled wrists to him. He struck the shackles with his staff, shattering them. She stumbled and he caught her before she fell, helping her to stand again. Laying hands his over the worst of her injuries, he hastily invoked a prayer of mending as renewing light issued from his palms.

    The Beast halted in its rampage to sniff the ground, snorted, then fixed his all of his eyes upon Umbrion and Rosa.

    Umbrion looked down and found himself cradling a much hairier woman with cavernous, pointed ears and a muzzle who grinned back at him through huge fangs. “I believe you marked his territory, love,” she said.

    He blinked at her. “ _ What _ ?”

    The Beast stamped his forefeet, then roaring, threw himself into a wild charge. Rosa leaped from Umbrion’s lap and hit all fours, bounding away as Umbrion jerked himself to his feet.

    Two Dragonspawn guards protecting Umbrion blocked The Beast’s path and closed ranks. The Beast’s mouths opened and twin blasts of flame issued from its gullets. The flames caught the Dragonspawn full-on, engulfing them. The Beast burst through the lingering flames, shoving the guards’ charred bodies aside and charging dead on target for Umbrion.

    Eyes as large as moons, Umbrion’s form began to shift. He grew taller, scales forming across his skin. A transformation too late. The hurtling beast closed the distance in a matter of moments, opened its jaws wide and snapped Umbrion up inside them. The Beast shook him to and fro, ravaging his body like a shark with a slab of chum. Umbrion’s arms and legs flailed as he screamed. The Beast silenced him with a sickening crunch, then tossed its head, loosening its jaws and slamming Umbrion’s limp body against a wall.

    “NO!” Drakk’sul bellowed. A dozen armored Orcs rushed to surround The Beast. They drove him back with spears and axes as he roared and swatted at them with his massive forepaws. He spit elemental fire as the Orcs raised their shields against the roaring flames.

    Rosa rushed to Hilda’s side where she huddled with Gimbo, Mok and Korridan as they faced down the few remaining Orcs surrounding them.

    “Miss us?” Rosa asked, playfully elbowing Hilda in the side.

    Hilda smiled crookedly. “Maybe a wee bit. Ye took long enough.”

    “The insolence! Pure hubris!” Drakk’sul snarled. Gimbo saw the general stomping towards them, flanked by four towering Dragonspawn seven or eight Blackrock warriors. “I know the five of you planned this somehow,” he said. “Using my own pet to destroy my dearest friend and the rightful heir to Blackrock Spire. You will pay dearly!” He brandished his massive spear.

    “Problem Solvers, fall back!” Gimbo said. “We’re getting out of here!”

    “Not so fast!” Hilda blurted. “I’m not goin’ anywhere till we got that dragon’s head!”

    Gimbo looked to where Umbrion’s mangled body lay splayed on the floor beyond the approaching Orcs and Dragonspawn. He stared at her. After all that had happened, she had to be joking. “Hilda, that doesn’t matter anymore,” he said. “We have you back, Umbrion is dead and Redridge is saved. Forget the head, forget the gold, forget the Gimbo Tinkertorque Guarantee. Your lives are all that matters to me.”

    Hilda scoffed. “Oh stop yer sanctimonious jibber-jabber. I didn’t put up with all this shite not to get payed for me trouble!”

    Rosa laughed and beamed at Hilda with a look approaching adoration. “A woman knows what she wants, eh?”

    “I’ll get the head,” Mok said. “The rest of you go. Now.”

    Gimbo threw up his hands. “Cogs. Okay, go, go! Korridan, clear our exit!”

    The four of them retreated, sprinting for the exit as Drakk’sul and his throng charged. Korridan unleashed smiting blasts of light against scattered guards and soldiers that rushed to head them off. The light exploded against their bodies, searing their flesh through their armor. Korridan unleashed tendrils of shadow magic amongst them. Orcs screamed and fell as dark shadows flayed them. Gimbo felt himself yanked skyward by the collar and his feet lifted off the ground. Once again, Rosa lifted him up to ride on her shoulders. Gimbo looked back to check on Mok.

    The blademaster charged straight for Drakk'sul. The general struck at him with a mighty swing as he vanished in a swirl of wind and dust. Suddenly he was everywhere, dozens of images of him scattered throughout the throng. Orcs and Dragonspawn clashed with the images, dodging their twin sword strikes, then striking back only to see them dissipate in clouds of phantom smoke before their eyes. Which one was real, even Gimbo had no idea.

    Mok rematerialized next to Umbrion’s body. With a single stroke, he hacked the head from the neck and grabbed it up by the hair. Orcs charged and closed in on him and he launched into the air on a raging whirlwind. He arched over them, then plummeted and struck the ground amongst them. The shockwave blasting out from the impact floored Drakk’sul and everyone around Mok in a ten foot radius.

    He vanished again, moments later rematerializing running next to Rosa. He held up the severed head. “Got it.”

    “About time,” Hilda said.

    “Problem Solvers, move!” Gimbo said. “Go, go!” They raced towards the throne room entrance while soldiers recovering from Mok’s attack began to regroup and give chase. The Beast continued roaring somewhere behind them.

    Gimbo tapped Rosa on the head. “Rosa, you’re crazy, but I have to say the core hound was a nice touch.”

    She grinned up at him. “What a pinch of sweet, glorious chaos, wouldn’t you say?”

    “How did you manage to get it rampaging in here like that?”

    Her grin widened. “I marked his territory, of course."

    "You marked his territory? You mean you—surely you didn't—"

    She nodded adamantly.

    Gimbo slapped a hand over his eyes. "Cogs. I don't even...eh, problem solved. Let’s get out of here.”

    The Problem Solvers bolted through throne room entrance and into the hall. “Korridan, get my gear!” Rosa yelled.

    Korridan saw her armor and axe piled next to the entrance. Casting his levitation spell on the pile, he lifted it and brought the pieces close to Rosa. Lifting Gimbo off her shoulders, she tossed him to Mok.

    Gimbo’s eyes flew open.

    Mok caught him flawlessly with one hand and settled him upon his shoulders.

    As her armor hovered around her, Rosa thrust her hands into the gauntlets. Korridan twisted his hand, manipulating his magic to close the breastplate and the pack plate around her body and she latched them while she ran. Next, Korridan closed the cuisses around her legs and she jumped into the sabatons. She stopped for a mere two seconds to latch the cuisses, then sprinted forward again, grabbing her axe out of the air and securing it on her back.

    Gimbo stared in amazement, then shook his head. “Crazy kids.’

    The group sprinted through the ballroom, through the antechamber, and arrived at the bridge. They halted halfway across. There were Orcs gathered and dire wolves gathered on the far side. Lots of them.

_ Cogs, _ Gimbo cursed _. _ He leaned over from Mok’s shoulders and looked over the edge, staring down at the distant tent and hut tops of Hordemar City. He looked back up to see the Orcs and wolves from the far side closing in, then looked at Korridan apprehensively. “Only one way out of here now. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

    Korridan nodded.

    Gimbo slid off Mok’s shoulders and hopped to the ground. “Problem Solvers, get ready to drop!”

    Rosa looked between him and Korridan. “Oh, bugger.”

    Korridan raised his staff into the air, and energy issued forth from the head, casting his levitation spell over the whole group. “I’ve cast a lesser form of the spell,” he said. “It will allow us to fall while slowing our descent. Somewhat.”

    Gimbo and the others gathered at the edge of the bridge, staring over the side for a long moment. It was so far down. Gimbo looked up at his companions. “Uh...would it help if we all held hands or something?” He got all glares in response. “No? Okay. You only live once!” He held his nose and leaped off the bridge.

    He dropped rapidly yet at a manageable pace. It was almost like falling with the aid of a parachute. He knew he would probably have to roll to break his fall at the bottom. Wherever bottom ended up. He looked up to see his companions falling with him. Korridan looked totally at ease, of course. The others...maybe not quite as much.

    They fell between the towering rock faces that the bridge spanned above them, past windows and balconies carved out of the blackened stone on either side. There was only inky black and stray cobwebs beyond the silent recesses where torches had long gone dark—forgotten ruins of the old Dark Iron city in the spire. Gimbo looked down to see where they were landing. Directly below him, there was a ledge about a hundred and fifty feet down. He could see Ogres there, gathered around a large bonfire, many dressed in spiked armor and carrying wicked-looking weapons.

    Gimbo flailed his arms in big circles and tried to tilt his body to fall towards an Ogre-free area of stone floor across a narrow chasm from the brutes. His trajectory didn’t change. He yelled up to Korridan. “Hey, can’t we change direction? Hostiles incoming.”

    “I’m afraid not,” Korridan yelled back.

    Gimbo flailed his arms more frantically. “Cogs, we’re landing right in the middle of them!”

    An Ogre sitting next to the fire looked up to watch Gimbo flutter down in front of him. Gimbo’s kept his knees bent as his boots hit the ground with a thud and he immediately threw his weight forward, rolling diagonally across his left shoulder before springing back to his feet. He turned on the Ogre and drew his dagger. All around him, Korridan and the others hit the ground, sprang up next to him and formed a circle, everyone standing back-to-back.

    The surrounding ogres looked stunned, gripping their weapons and staring back at them. The ogre sitting next to the fire slowly raised a fat finger and pointed at them. “Hey…”

    “Cover your eyes!” Korridan commanded. Gimbo shielded his eyes with his cloak just as the Elf raised his hand and cast a brilliant flash of white light. The Ogres reeled back, some dropping their spears and clubs and covering their eyes. Others flailed their weapons blindly while bellowing in confusion.

    “Quick, across the chasm!” Korridan indicated towards the broken stone floor Gimbo had tried to aim for on the way down. On the other side of the chasm, the path left led to a flight of stairs reaching towards an arched passageway that Gimbo was sure would take them to the exit tunnels.

    The Problem Solvers sprinted towards the chasm and Korridan cast his levitation spell again. They all floated gently across to the other side. The ogres on the ledge began pounding drums, sending up an alarm that boomed through the halls of the Lower Spire, echoing and resounding across its walls and into its very depths. Nearby Orcs spotted Gimbo and company and began to give chase, weapons drawn.

    “To the stairs!” Gimbo shouted.

    They charged up the stairs and entered the arched passageway. After running about thirty or forty feet through the torch-lit tunnel, they emerged into a square-shaped room where they found a series of stairs and landings that hugged the walls in a steep, downward spiral towards the distant floor.

    Gimbo recognized this place as the old gatehouse that once served as the Dark Iron’s formidable first line of defense against invaders. He smiled. Escape from the mountain lay finally within reach! The shouts of Orcs echoed in the tunnel behind him and his smile vanished. He prodded the group forward, “Go, go, go!”

    Wasting no time, they descended the stairs in a mad rush, slowing only to skirt areas where the stonework had crumbled away, leaving treacherous gaps in the path.

    Signs of the Dwarves’ long-lost battle to resist the invasion of the Blackrock horde lingered everywhere. Broken arrows remained lodged between stones and embedded in the remains of spiked, wooden barriers on the landings. Gimbo nearly tripped over the outstretched leg of a skeletal Dwarf corpse. He leaped to keep from catching his foot and glanced back at the skeleton. The skull’s slack jaw seemed to grin back at him, laughing at its own practical joke.

    Gimbo heard a whistle and an arrow glanced off the stone only inches from his feet. He looked up to see Orc archers gathering on the landings above him.

    They reached the final landing, ran through a smashed and ruined gate, and found themselves with a grand view of Franclorn Forgewright’s hanging tomb above them. From the direction of the Searing Gorge, a column of Dark Iron soldiers approached along the stone path circling the lava pit.

    Gimbo had never been so glad to see a gang of sooty, blunt-nosed, Dark Iron thugs. “Orcs! Orcs are coming from the Spire!” he yelled, waving at them frantically. “To arms, men! Raise the alarm!”

    The Dwarves formed into several lines and closed ranks, raising weapons and shields to create a wall of steel blocking the Problem Solvers’ path.

    Gimbo skidded to a halt in front of them and put up his hands. “Whoa! Hey, easy! We’re not here to fight you. We’re on your side.” He pointed behind him. “There’s a veritable army of Orcs on our heels. They could be here any second! We humbly beg Queen Moira’s protection against a common enemy.”

    A sergeant pushed through the Dwarfs on either side of him and stepped forward. “I know ye,” he growled. “I put ye in prison! How in Ragnaros’s name did ye get out here?”

    Hilda stared at the Dwarfs and looked up at Rosa. “Do I want ta know what cockamamie shite the four of ye got yerselves into on yer way to find me?

    “It was quite an adventure,” Rosa said. “Another time, love.”

    Gimbo stared in disbelief. Sergeant Sootstack? Cogs, no! He ran a clenched hand down the side of his face and sighed loudly. “Listen, sergeant. The magistrate dropped all charges against my associates and I. Charges that I might add, were far-fetched to begin with. It’s all settled and official. The warden of the Detention Block signed our release papers personally. Talk to him if you don't believe me. Only not right now, because there’s a thrice-damned army of Orcs coming. Haven’t you been listening to a single word I’ve said? We don’t have time for this!”

    “Yes, yes, in invasion from the Spire ye say.” Sootstack said, narrowing his eyes at him. “I wonder what ye were doin’ in there in the first place. The Blackrocks are ruthless and cunning. Ye couldn't possibly have gotten in and back out without help. Perhaps yer in league with the monsters. Yes, it all makes sense now. First ye associate with a known criminal, then ye cavort with our worst enemies. Quite a record criminal you’re makin’ for ye self, Mr. Tinkertorque.” He motioned to his men. “Round them up, boys! Detain them for interrogation.”

    Gimbo groaned inwardly. _ Cogs, not again!  _ “You don’t understand—you’re making a huge mistake! We’re not the enemy here! The Orcs, they’re—”

    In a clamor of roaring shouts, stomping boots and clattering armor, Orcs streamed out of the ruined Spire gates, into the open.

    Wide-eyed, Sootstack stumbled backwards into the ranks of his men, who quickly closed in around him.

    On sight of the Dark Irons, the Orcs amassed into a formation poised for battle. Archers strung their bows and casters—totem-wielding shamans and warlocks with demons at their sides—gathered spells in their hands.

    Gimbo’s eyes darted back and forth between the two groups. He felt like a slab of veal caught in a meat grinder. Sweat beaded profusely on his forehead.

    “Well, this is a right fine mess,” Hilda grumbled.

    “Brilliant idea, gnome,” Mok said. “Ask for the protection of the Dark Iron Dwarves, honorless dogs with permanent logs up their shafts. We would have better luck asking a murloc for directions to Hellfire Peninsula.”

    A large Orc, obviously a captain, moved to the front of his formation. “I knew it!” he snarled. “Dark Iron agents infiltrating the Spire and now an invasion force arrives on their heels. Prepare to die, Dwarf filth!”

    Sootstack shoved himself to the front of the ranks. “We’re not the invaders!” He shot back. “I knew all along these interlopers were consorting with Blackrock scum. Now they’ve led an army to our very doorstep.  _ You _ prepare to die!”

    The Orc scoffed. “You dare to challenge us with a single troop of soldiers? We will crush you.”   
    “Reinforcements are on their way. But we’ll hold ye here to our last dyin’ breath until they get here if we have to!”

    “NOOOOO! NO KILL!” a voice boomed. Gimbo heard the sound of four galloping feet and a bellow he recognized as Dadanga’s.

    The Dwarves in the back ranks scattered as Dadanga came charging through. Oralius and Lunk rode on his back. The front ranks kept their composure while quickly making way for Dadanga to avoid being trampled. Dadanga came to a halt in front of the Problem Solvers and made a happy snort.

    “Winky told me your motley band might be in trouble, so we came chargin’ this way as fast as we could,” Oralius said.

    “Came just in time to stop killing,” Lunk said.

    Gimbo grinned. “Problem Solvers, code three! Saddle up!”

    Rosa leaped onto Dadanga’s back and helped Hilda climb up while Lunk helped Korridan. Mok grabbed Gimbo up, put him on his shoulders and leaped on a burst of wind, landing on Dadanga’s back just behind Oralius.

    Oralius turned Dadanga around but Sootstack grabbed the reigns. “You criminals aren’t going anywhere!”

    The Orcs raised battle cries and charged forward. Sootstack dropped the reins. “Men, form up! Back to ranks! Back to ranks!”

    With a bellow, Dadanga charged though the Dwarves’ lines and they let him through, the ranks in front closing as he passed.

    Behind him, Gimbo heard the clashing of steel and the cries and screams of men locked in mortal battle but didn’t look back. The group passed two more columns of Dark Irons, rushing to join the battle at the Spire gates. Dadanga galloped around the lava pit and turned north towards the Searing Gorge. From there, they would make for Thorium Point and hopefully safety at last.

 

* * * *

 

    Villiona held Seetheria’s forefoot in hers as bitter tears fell from her sister-consort’s eyes. The steely-faced Orc who had delivered the news of her son’s death stood by as the dragoness wept. 

    Standing in front of his grisly experimentation table, Nefarian watched the scene from a distance and sneered. “Weakness, cowardice, incompetence. I am surrounded by nothing but weakness!” He turned back to his table and lifted a vial of bubbling liquid, peering into it. “It falls to me alone to bring about the downfall of the Dragonflights.” He smiled wickedly. “The Chromatic Dragonflight will usher in the new age.”


	9. Chapter 9

Lakeshire Town Hall, five days later:

 

    Magistrate Solomon paced the floor of the town hall. Today was the same as all days. The townspeople had a never ending list of complaints and the troubles of Redridge continued on. At least the dragon attacks had stopped. That was something at least. He wondered if his hired professionals had vanquished the beast or if this was just a lull in a nightmarish storm that never ended. At least the repairs to the bridge were finished at last. That was something more. Now, the Lakeshire garrison and troops from the surrounding outposts could be moved more easily into to the areas of Redridge where they were needed most. Perhaps they would have the opportunity to finally quash the encroaching gnolls and murlocs. Two major woes alleviated in one final, devastating swoop.

    Solomon smiled to himself. Through his leadership he had done quite well for Lakeshire, all things considered. In any case, the “Problem Solvers”, as they called themselves, seemed late in returning with his promised dragon head. Perhaps something unfortunate had happened to them. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to reach into Lakeshire’s already dwindling treasury to pay off a troupe of dodgy mercenaries after all.

    Bailiff Conacher strode into the room and spoke up. “Magistrate, sir. I bring wonderful news!”

    Solomon turned to face him and adjusted his monocle in his eye. “What’s that?”

    “I said I have wonderful news. The Gnome and his band have returned. They carry the dragon’s head with them.”

    Solomon blinked. “They’re here? Now?”

    “Right outside, sir.”

    “Oh.” He sighed. “Very well. Send them in.”

    Conacher ducked out and moments later, Gimbo Tinkertorque marched in and stood in front of Solomon with his fists on his hips. “Greetings, Magistrate,” he said. “I’ve come to fulfill my Gimbo Tinkertorque guarantee.”

    The rest of his band piled into the room behind him. The Wildhammer woman stopped next to Gimbo and crossed her arms over her chest. Next, the Worgen Baroness strode up alongside the Dwarf, grinning with her axe carried across one shoulder. The Blood Elf priest joined them, carrying his jeweled ivory staff, followed by the brutish Orc blademaster, carrying a basket in his hands.

    Tinkertorque continued, “May I present the severed head of Umbrion, son of Nefarian himself.”

    The blademaster stepped forward, removed the lid from the basket, and pulled a head out by its long, greasy hair, hanging there for Solomon to see. Hair. On a human head. Granted, it looked larger than normal and the skin appeared patched with scales, but it was still clearly a human head.

    Solomon stared at the head, then back to Gimbo. “Is this a joke?”

    Conacher stared at it too. “You told me it was a dragon’s head you had brought.”

    Tinkertorque looked caught off guard for a moment, then gestured adamantly towards it. “It _ is _ a dragon’s head. Well...we managed to kill him while he was in his human guise, but rest assured this is the head of Umbrion the black dragon.”

    Solomon continued to study the head skeptically while scratching his balding head.

    “The attacks have stopped, Magistrate,” Conacher offered.

    “Just look at it,” Tinkertorque said. “It has scales forming across the skin. This is a genuine, authentic dragon’s head in the process of resuming its draconian shape. Look, we brought what I promised you. I believe you promised us payment in full?”

    Solomon sighed. “Very well. While I can’t see how I will be able to stuff this and mount it on my wall, I suppose you deserve compensation for stopping the attacks. You have the eternal gratitude of Lakeshire and all of Redridge.” He motioned to Conacher. “Bailiff, bring up a chest of silver from the treasury so that we may pay these men and women what they’ve earned.”

    Conacher walked to the back of the room and descended through a trapdoor into a cellar.

    Solomon motioned to a soldier. “Guard, take the head, please and put it...put it over there.” He pointed towards a table in the corner. “Out of sight.” The blademaster set the dubious dragon’s head back in the basket and the soldier took it from his hands.

    It took a few minutes for Conacher to return and he set the brimming chest of silver down next to Solomon. He took an empty coin purse and opened it. “How much shall we pay them?” he asked.

    “I think five hundred is fair.”

    Tinkertorque’s smile faltered and his brow knitted together. “You mean five hundred for each of us?” he asked, looking hopeful.

    “No, five hundred for the job.”

    “That’s outrageous!” Hilda blurted, her face reddening and her blue eyes flashing. “For our time and effort, the job we’ve done for ye is worth ten times that mingin’ sum, ye sorry, cheap arse—”

    Tinkertorque threw himself in front of the Dwarf, waving his hands frantically at her. “Whoa, hold it! Let’s not be uncivil here.”

    “Get outta me face,” she snapped.

    He turned to Solomon. “Magistrate, Hilda merely would like you to consider the invaluable service the five of us have performed for your people against a dire, very well-connected enemy. We braved the terrors of Blackrock Mountain itself and hordes of angry Blackrock Orcs and Dark Iron Dwarves to bring you your trophy. I think it’s only right that you consider sparing a little more of that ‘eternal gratitude’ you mentioned.”

    “Ye promised to pay us two thousand silver pieces in full if we brought the head back to ye,” Hilda said. “We brought it, now pay us what ye owe!”

    Solomon frowned. “What you brought to me may very well be the half-transfigured head of this ‘Umbrion’, but I’m sure you can understand my skepticism. I’ve seen the sort hoax-work a highly skilled, taxidermist is capable of. I will have my apothecary examine the head to verify its authenticity. Unfortunately, at this time, my apothecary is away on business in Stormwind City.

    “As soon as he returns and is able to determine that the head indeed belongs to the dragon I commissioned you to slay, we can negotiate for an additional payout. Come back in say...three of four weeks. I’m sure I will know by then.”

_     Surely these mercenaries won’t consider the issue worth returning over,  _ Solomon thought. The townspeople would thank him for the shrewd handling of their tax money.

    The Dwarf stomped towards Solomon. “Listen to me, ye mingy skinflint! We bent over backwards to get this job done for ye. I nearly got me head lobbed off over it, we all came within inches of death more than once, and me best friend was forced to make a total fool of herself, nearly naked in a dragon’s lap. I’ll see ye pay us a lot more than five hundred pieces for our troubles or ye’ll find me boot so far up yer arse, you’ll be choakin’ on me cleats till Winter’s Veil.” 

    “I don’t respond well to threats,” Solomon said, his temper flaring. He took the full coin purse from Conacher’s hands. “Here’s your pay, and now I think it's time for the three of you to leave my town hall—” he paused and looked around. “Wait...where are the rest of you? The Orc and the Worgen, where are they?”

    He heard a commotion behind him and two figures rushed past him in his peripheral vision. It was the Orc and the baroness carrying two chests of silver in their arms.

    Solomon's eyes flew wide open. “Wait—thieves! Conacher, stop them!”

    “Run!” the Worgen shouted as she rushed past Tinkertorque. 

    “So sorry about this,” Tinkertorque blurted, before he, the Dwarf woman and the priest bolted after the other two.

    Conacher drew his sword and cried, “Halt!”

    Solomon joined Conacher to give chase, when the Blood Elf priest shouted in a booming voice, “Barrier!”

    A shimmering, magical wall sprang up before Solomon and he collided with it face first. The impact floored him and he lay there, seeing stars. Holding his head, he struggled to a sitting position.

    He saw Tinkertorque on the other side of the barrier, grinning at him sheepishly. “I promise I didn’t know they were going to do that, Magistrate. I’ll go talk to them. Be right back.” He ran with the priest and the Dwarf out the door.

    “I’ll see you ruined for this,” Gimbo Tinkertorque!” Solomon yelled after him, shaking his fist.

 

    By the time Gimbo made it outside, Mok and Rosa were already loading the chests onto Dadanga where he was tethered near the boardwalk along the shore of the lake.

    “Wait,” Gimbo yelled. “I think that could be a bit more than two thousand pieces!”

    “Looks about right to me,” Mok grunted as he untethered Dadanga.

    “We’ll send the difference back by gryphon rider with a nice letter and a box of chocolates,” Rosa said. “I’m sure now that his dragon problem is solved, the magistrate will find it in his heart to forgive us, don’t you think?”

    “You have to return that silver immediately,” Gimbo protested. “Think of what could happen to our spotless reputation when word of this gets out.”

    She smiled sweetly and pointed past him. “I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that, love.”

    Gimbo looked and saw several angry guards with swords drawn, racing towards them. “Cogs! Help me up! Let’s get out of here!”

    He reached toward Rosa and she grabbed him by his wrists, lifting his feet off the ground as she pulled him onto Dadanga’s back. Hilda and Korridan quickly climbed on behind him.

    Gimbo turned Dadanga towards the bridge and snapped the reigns. “Ho, Dadanga!” Dadanga snorted and raced off at a gallop towards the bridge.

    “I don’t believe the Light would look kindly upon what we’ve done here today,” Korridan said. “But I’m sure the Light looks even less kindly upon Solomon’s shameless greed, so I suppose we are even. I believe I can bless this rash course of action as long as we all commit to seek the Light’s penance for today’s misdeed.”

    “I’ll schedule a mandatory visit to the temple for all of us when we get back to Booty Bay,” Gimbo said. “That goes for you too, Hilda.”

    Hilda murmured something darkly back that Gimbo was sure he should be glad he didn’t hear.

    As guards futilely gave chase, Dadanga charged across the bridge and hit the cobblestone road. From there, the road to Three Corners lay over the crest of the next hill. The red dust kicked up from Dadanga’s hind feet obscured Lakeshire from Gimbo’s view as the town gradually faded into the distance.

 

The Salty Sailor Tavern, Booty bay:

 

    Sticky-hot night air filled the noisy barroom alongside the musty smell of unwashed bodies and bilge water. At large, round tables, bellowing sailors bragged of exploits on the high seas or sojourns at exotic and decadent ports of call. Hunters, trappers, and fishermen told stories of dramatic encounters with savage sea giants on the coast, wild animals, hostile trolls, or shambling zombies in the jungle. Smugglers and black market dealers stuck to the fringes of the room, making shady deals in shadowy corners while the bustle of wanton merriment swirled around them.

    Booty Bay. It wasn’t exactly a tropical paradise but it was home sweet home and Gimbo was glad to be back. Lounging at a beer-stained table, he nursed a tall glass of Pupellyverbos Port with Bibby at his side, his arm around her. He ran a hand softly through her short, pink hair and she turned her big, brown eyes upon him. They smiled at one another, she raised her own glass of port and they clinked them together.

    They drank in the company Mok, Hilda, Rosa, and Korridan, filling up the rest of the table. Mok drank some sort of strong, dark stout from a heavy tankard that Gimbo didn’t care to try himself. Rosa, dressed in a very low-cut swashbuckler's shirt and leather pants, clashed her tankard with Hilda’s and began to noisily gulp down her fifth pint of frothy mead. Hilda watched Rosa with sparkling eyes, laughing at her friend’s antics. Korridan abstained from drinking but he enjoyed the tavern atmosphere and obviously, watching Rosa make a fool out of herself.

    The Salty Sailor seemed unusually full tonight. Gimbo observed the patrons. There were the regulars. Good ‘ol Airwyn Bantamflax from the Explorer’s League branch office drinking at a table with a typically tipsy Whisky Slim. Deeg, the old Dwarf buccaneer with his snuff box in hand, consummate barfly and knife fighter Catelyn the Blade chatting with an off-duty bruiser. Shaky Philippe sat hunched over his drink in a corner, obviously trying to stay out of Sea Wolf McKinley’s sight. Gimbo suspected the perpetually broke angler had just lost another round of poker to that notorious card shark, Sea Wolf.

    At the back of the room, next to the stairs leading to the upper floors of the tavern, Nixxrax Fillamug tapped the kegs and slid overflowing tankards across the bar to patrons at a feverish pace. The Goblin’s red eyes glowed with greed even as sweat beaded profusely on his forehead. Tonight was a great night for business.

    Gimbo decided that he should relax and be happy. He still had problems, sure. He still owed a fortune to Nexus Prince Kalil, But he also had a lot to be thankful for. With his wife at his side and his comrades making merry around him, he felt right now as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

    As a Goblin barmaid passed the table, carrying a tray laden with ales, Rosa stood up from her seat and grabbed one off of it.

    “Hey, this ain’t a dinner party, Carter!” the barmaid barked. “That Thunderbrew Ale goes to a gentleman two tables down and it ain't free.”

    “Give the gentleman the next one and put it on my tab,” Rosa said loudly. “Unless he’s a dark, strapping blighter, then send him over here and we can drink a pair together.” She waved to the three brawny, young sailors sitting two tables down and winked at them. All three grinned back, their lecherous eyes alive with interest, inevitably settling upon her plunging neckline.

    “She’s a Worgen, boys,” Korridan called to them. “Be careful that you don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

    One man’s leer faded, replaced by a look as if he had just reached for a stick that turned out to be a snake. The other two looked at each other. One raised a hand toward her as if to say, “maybe some other time.” The other nodded and politely tipped his hat to her, giving an awkward smile before turning back to his drink.

    Rosa flashed a glare at Korridan. “Aw, bugger! Why do you always have to scare them away?”

    “I’m simply giving them fair warning,” he answered with a shrug. “We all know how your wild side tends to get out of hand around the boys.”

    “I agree,” Hilda said, grinning. “It’s only fair to warn the poor sots.”

    She whirled on her.“Traitor! Between the two of you, I won’t have any fun tonight!”

    Bibby looked at Gimbo, smiling mischievously. “Really now, Toots, this is the kind of company you choose to keep when you’re away from me? How do you manage to stay sane?”

    “He doesn’t, Bibby,” Rosa said. “We’ve quite all lost our minds by this point. The question is, how am I supposed to stay bloody sane when everyone’s out to sabotage my love life?”

    “They only sabotage you because they like you,” Bibby said. “You can see it in their eyes.”

    Rosa sighed and rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize popularity was such a bugger.” She grabbed her pilfered tankard of Thunderbrew and took a long swig.

    Gimbo chuckled. “Friends, let’s not quarrel. We’re together, the night is young, we just came back from another problem well-solved, and our pockets are lined with silver. I think a toast to us is in order.” He raised his glass. "Comrades, associates. Dear friends. My lovely wife. Allow me to propose a toast. “To problems solved, to dragons slain, to mountains conquered, and to friends rescued from the blades-edge of doom. To future problems and their solution—to us! To further adventures!” He drank and the others drank with him.

    Rosa nodded sagely. “A lovely toast, love, but I think one for the room is in order.” She climbed onto the table and stood up, dragging her Thunderbrew up with her.    

    Gimbo, Bibby, Hilda, and Korridan quickly leaned away from her as she stumbled towards the middle of the table. Along the way, her foot kicked Mok’s tankard, forcing him to lunge forward and grab at it to keep it from spilling into his lap. Stout sloshed out and splattered on the tabletop.

    “Og’rosh mo’gah!” Mok blurted. “Watch what you’re doing, woman!”

    Bibby closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.

    Rosa muttered an apology, then steadied herself while she took another long swig of ale. After gulping it down, she smacked loudly and addressed the room with a great sweep of her hand. “Citizens, scoundrels, swashbucklers and scalawags!” she shouted. “Lend me a salty ear!”

    Heads turned to stare at the teetering woman standing on the table. Some immediately broke into laughter while others looked on with amused curiosity.

    “I, the Lady Rosa Carter, Fifth Baroness of Eastmoor propose a toast to the night! To the heat, the stink, and the rattle of doubloons across the bar!” She raised her tankard over her head. “To Booty Bay. Home of drunkards and scoundrels, pirates and profiteers. Buccaneer town, trading port, smuggler’s den, gateway to Kalimdor, our home away from home. You're filthy, you're fishy, you're sordid and sweltering, but we adore you anyway. To Booty Bay!”

    All around the room, sloshing tankards rose into the air. “Here, here!” booming voices chorused. “To Booty Bay!”

    As Rosa hopped down from the table, Hilda clapped wildly for her. “There ye are, old girl! A regular queen of verse and meter! Grimbooze Thunderbrew couldn’t do ye one better.”

    Rosa sat down in her chair and gave Hilda a sidelong glare. “Get off my back, darling. Poetry is a wanker when you're drunk.”   


    Gimbo chuckled and pulled Bibby close, kissing her on the forehead. Yes. It was good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback. I love lots of critique!


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